100 prompts for APH Kimchibowl
by Masked Manipulator
Summary: 100 days with Korea and Japan, a pinch of sad, cup of sweetness, bit of bitter.
1. Let's Start with Introductions!

If Honda Kiku prided himself on anything, he prided himself on his patience. He was a patient man- everyone would swear by it.

He had always trained himself to be so, to always seek the good in others- to justify the bad of something with tha very goodness.

He was tolerant, thrashing all negative emotions into easy submission, keeping iron control and a fixed, polite, natural-looking smile on his face.

But Mei's blatant attempts to set him up were getting annoying, and everyone had limits- even him.

First was that British gentleman, Arthur Kirkland, in his Physics class. The poor student had no idea what Kiku's meddlesome sister was trying to do, and had been pulled into this unknowingly. While he did enjoy the other's presence, he didn't think he wanted to date the Englishman. So he evaded his sister's scheming by setting Arthur up with the American that he had so much UST with, Alfred Jones, a friend on the rugby team.

Next had been Wang Yao, and highly adverse to it- relations between them were not so good these days, he had taken it upon himself to ask Toris to chat to the Russian transfer student- after a few weeks of talking about the Chinese boy and the Lithuanian boy being terrorized, Ivan Braginski had mustered up the courage to ask Yao out. Yao had accepted, and Kiku had been triumphant again.

Then, there was Heracles. While he had enjoyed spending lazy hours with the Greek on the roof, wih cats and comfortable silences, he was a bit too passive for the Japanese boy. After a particularly disturbing dream, he had devoted his time to resolving the tensions between the cat-lover and a Turkish student that was forever squabbling with him over something- much like the two he had first set up.

Mei was very frustrated, and he was satisfied with his results.

_-Hey! Let's start with introductions!-_

"Hey! Hey, Kiku!" He turned around, mentally scanning through a list of every single person in the school. "Hai, Mei-san?"

"This is Im Yong Soo. He's new here- and he's in a lot of your classes. Could you show him around? I left my books in my classroom, and I need to go grab them."

She speeds off, and he turns to the new student. Im Yong Soo is tall, with dark hair and eyes, too-long sleeves, and a sheepish smile. He notes a... a face? on a single, lone hair, and the contours of his face and name give away his nationality.

"Uh...hi! Like she said, my name is Im Yong Soo. I'm from South Korea, and I'll be in your care!" He bows politely, the sheepishness of his smile giving way to a natural, easy one.

He blinks, and opts for a smile, searching for his usual polite one. He can't find it. However, a small, soft, natural one moves his lips up into the first smile he's given in weeks. He doesn't know why, but this boy is already pushing at his protective barriers. Maybe because he's just like a big child, but Japan feels a strange need to look after him.

"I am Honda Kiku. It's a pleasure to meet you. All my answers for today are perhaps."

He has no idea where the last bit came from, but Yong-Soo laughs. "You're funny!"

He flushes, just a bit, because no one has ever said that before.

Mei is dashing back to them, and at the sight, he can see the cogs turning in her brain. He also feels a bit defeated.

He didn't think he could bear setting his new friend up with anyone else- if Mei tried to set them up, he was fairly sure that this time, it would be her win.


	2. Beach Day!

**Day 2- Beach Day!**

**I didn't say this in the last chapter, but I decided to take on kimchi71399's challenge, and so here we go!**

**I don't own Hetalia, or S.E.O.U.L., a song that SNSD and Super Junior worked on together.**

_xixixixiBeachixiDay!ixixixixix_

China had taken all of the East Asian nations out to a beach as a treat. Delighted, Korea had hugged his mentor... and refused to let go of him.

"Korea! Let go of me aru!" The Chinese nation tried to pry the younger one off of him. Korea grins at him, then lets go in favor of running towards the sea.

Japan watches the sea quietly. He's always been enchanted by it, and he was afraid of it. He'd been enchanted by it's rolling waves and blue depths, the mysteries and the beauties that it had presented him. Japan was an island nation, and the sea charmed him.

But the ocean also terrified him. The tsunami had petrified him. He'd never forget the seizures, the fits he'd had as the earthquake rocked the plates near his home. He'd never forget that sensation of drowning as thousands of his people died from the destructive waves that had crushed it. Japan was an island, and the sea scared him with its power.

But there was a bright side to that memory, he reflected. Korea, who had held him in wariness and dislike for so long had the first to come see if he was alright. Yong-Soo's rescue teams had reached his people first. And this warmed his heart.

He's quiet as he watches Korea, Hong Kong and Taiwan all romp about in the waves, splashing each other, pushing each other over, and revelling in the sensation of the water. He wishes that he could do it with such a carefree heart- but the waves would remind him too much of the tsunami, and the fears that someday he would disappear under the ocean's depths.

_xixixixiBeachixiDay!ixixixixix_

Korea sings S.E.O.U.L. cheerfully as he fills up his (made in Korea) watergun. He's still humming as he blasts Taiwan in the back with it. Mei-Mei shrieks and chases him around, screaming about her hair. He laughs, and blasts Hong Kond with it too. Xiang joins the irate nation in chasing Korea around the beach.

They finally manage to catch him, and they dunk him into the water- and even Hong Kong is laughing a little.

They split up to pursue various activities- Hong Kong in pursuit of food, Taiwan in search of a towel, and Korea decides to join Japan.

"Ilbon (Japan)?" Yong-Soo pokes the side of his head. "Are you in there, da ze?"

Japan looks startled, then nods with a careful almost-smile.

"What're you thinking about?" Korea sits down, and stares at the sea, too.

"The sea, Kankoku-san. (South Korea-san)" Japan answers, shifting a little.

"I... Do you like the sea, Ilbon?" Korea both hates and loves the sea. But he is not afraid of it.

"I do." The quiet affirmation is hesitant, though. Korea cocks his head curiously.

"I hate and love the sea. It's beautiful and powerful, mysterious and charming. But it used to hold so much fear for me. So I hate its cold, heartless depths as well. But I've never been scared of it." He says honestly, smiling at Japan.

Japan flushes a little at the attention, but presses a question on him. "Why?"

"...You know how Hyung-nim didn't want to come today? (Older brother)" Korea asks after a short pause.

"Yes. North-"

"Yong-buk has always held me tight, so I won't seperate from him because of the sea. We hold hands tightly, because, no matter what, he's my brother. And China-hyung holds Yong-buk tight because me and Hyung-nim both are his precious little brothers. Because both of my hyung-nims hold me tightly by the hand, both in way of land, and in a figurative way, I'm not afraid of the sea." He realizes that he's babbling, and stops talking. "And you, Ilbon?"

"...I...have no one to hold me like that. Not in a land sense, and not figuratively, either." Japan appreciates the fact that Korea confided in him, and returns the favor. "So I am afraid of it."

He's suddenly enveloped in a hug, and he blinks, surprised. "See, Ilbon?" Korea's voice is cheerful somewhere above his head. "I'm going to hold you tight, and I'm not ever going to let the sea have you!"

Japan blushes a little at that, but he can't deny that this makes him happy. He smiles a little, and he tells Korea:

"I'm glad, Kankoku-san. I'm not afraid any more."

_xixixixiBeachixiDay!ixixixixix_

**It's sooo shoooort. *dies* And I'm already behind, noooo!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, I finally got my lazy self in gear and started the challenge I should have started ages ago. Hope you like it! XD**

**Thank you everyone who alerted me- it means a ton. **

**I had so much trouble with this chapter, OTL. I rewrote it 5 times until I decided on this, and I scrapped 4 other plots. X_X**

**And yes, I'm aware that Yao, Mei-Mei, and Xiang suddenly disappeared. They... uh... went to buy drinks! ^_^**


	3. Studying!

**Day 3- Studying**

**(Which I really should be doing right now)**

**Anyway, I now present to you, chapter 3! It's in the same AU as the first chapter, but post-established relationship.**

_xixixixixiStudyingixixixixix_

Examinations were approaching, and as always, Kiku was in the library, studying. He was a person who usually excelled in all his academic exams- and he did not want to fail any expectations of anyone. As part of the small group of East Asians that attended the school, he was expected to place as one of the top ranks.

He sighs a little, and shuts the Physics book, tucking the neatly written notes away into an equally neat, color-coded binder. Perhaps a little break may serve him well- he'd been running on no sleep for a week, and little food.

"Studying?" He looks up, and Yong-Soo grins at him as he sits down. The smile fades slightly as he takes in the sight of the shorter boy. "When's the last time you ate? Or slept?" A touch of annoyance colors the Korean's voice.

Kiku blinks. "Ano... yesterday morning? A week ago? But please- you don't need to worry about me, Im-san. I'm perfectly fine." He rushes through the first two sentences, hoping that it will lessen the blow. He doesn't lie, however- he other boy could always tell when he did, and was cross with him when he did it.

"Yesterday morning! A week ago? You're going to collapse!" Yong-Soo exclaims in shock. And a pout crosses his face. "Yong. Soo. My name isn't Im-san, it's Yong-Soo. I've told you to call me that."

"My apologies." He starts when the other student picks up his books and binder in one arm, and pulls him up with the other. "Ah- I still have to take notes on Calculus and-"

"English. I know. But you are taking a break, Kiku. I hardly see you when exams come around, and we haven't gone on a date in forever, aaand you're going to kill yourself! It's my job to make sure you're still alive." The Japanese boy thinks sometimes that Yong-Soo spends too much time in their school's famous drama club. "School's over, and we're going to go out on a date, and you are getting a full night's sleep."

Trying to stop Yong-Soo was the equivalent to trying to keep the sun from shining, or to stop a tornado from happening. It was best to just go along with what he wanted- but Kiku still had to take notes.

"Im-I mean, Yong-Soo-san, I still have to-" He tries to put up a last protest, and this cues the puppy-eyes.

"Please, Kiku? I haven't seen you for the longest time." The brown eyes are big, teary, and irresistible. _I really can't say no to him anymore._ The Japanese boy muses on this, but sighs.

"Alright." Yong-Soo cheers in delight, hugging the smaller boy. But as excited as he is to see Kiku, he knows that his boyfriend is tired, utterly worn out. So he directs them to a patisserie near their school.

Francis Bonnefoy and Matthew Williams work there, and all four of them trade light and easy conversation as the Korean forces the other Asian to eat. Kiku eats slowly at first, then speeds up as hunger pangs hit his no longer numb insides. After an hour, Yong-Soo pays on his insistence, and the two boys leave, saying good-bye to the French-speaking pair inside the pastry store.

The shorter boy spots a Japanese convenience store, and both get ice-cream. In vengeance for the lost time on notes, he suggests that the Korean boy get the horse ice-cream, not telling him what it is. The disgusted and shocked look on his face is hilarious, and Kiku shakes in silent laughter as the taller swats at him in irritation.

"That... was the single most _disgusting_ thing I've ever eaten in my _life._" He complains, having washed his mouth out multiple times as the store-owner watched in amusement. The smaller shrugs. "I don't know. It is a popular flavor in my country."

Yong-Soo stares at him in disbelief. "You _knew_ that it was-" After the initial wave of annoyance, he laughs, too. "At least one of us is having fun." He jokes, and for all that his mouth tastes disgusting right now, he's glad to see Kiku laughing and having a good time.

"Ah- a purikura*." The Japanese student notes, glancing it. The other smiles brightly at him. "Let's get some pictures, then!" In excitement, he drags the former in.

He then makes some of the most ridiculous faces and expressions, or just grinning that infectious smile. The smaller also smiles, because it was impossible for him not to. His boyfriend had the ability to make him smile, laugh, and just all-around make him happy.

The Korean drops him off at home- but the other Asian lives alone. So Yong-Soo ensures that Kiku is in bed, having worn him out completely. He picks through Kiku's books and notes, picking up his own pencil and cracking open a textbook and his Japanese class notes. He sits down at a low table, and for the next hour, only the scratching of a pencil and rustling of pages can be heard as he writes down equally neat and meticulous notes. Because despite his excellence in acting and drama, despite all his silliness, he is brilliant, after all. He smiles in satisfaction, and leaves a post-it note in the shape of a Sharon Rose next to the photographs. Yong-Soo breezes out of the house after putting a pot of green tea on the stove- if he gets home now, he can catch some sleep before school the next morning.

_xixixixixiStudyingixixixixix_

Kiku awakes the next morning, well-rested but frantic. He needed to get those notes down, and he needed to study them! He rushes into the living room to find a pot of green tea on the stove and a pile of notes on the table. He sorts through them, disbelieving- until he spots a Japanese dictionary, a packet of photographs, and a post-it note on the table. He smiles, because when it was important- Yong-Soo always came through.

_xixixixixiStudyingixixixixix_

_Kiku, good morning! ^_^  
>Relax, because a magical dragon came and did all of your notes for you! =D<br>I'm glad we got to go out yesterday- it was really fun.  
>But the horse ice-cream was evil of you. DX I'm serious. That was disgusting. XP<br>Anyway, there should be some greentea on the stove, and the photographs are under this.  
>-Yong-Soo<br>P.S. Don't you dare overwork yourself like that again. Don't you dare! =PPP_

_xixixixixiStudyingixixixixix_

**Day 3, completed! And it's over 1,400 words, yay! The dragon was a bit of a pun on Yong-Soo's name- props to anyone who gets it!**

**Purikura- Print clubs.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak, you may recognize this one. **

**And now for my lovely reviewers!**

**Kankokku-ssi: O-Of course they did! ^_^UUU And yes, I considered that, but since in my sense, Korea's older than he is, and also Yong-Soo's just so informal... I just decided to go without it. Thanks for the suggestion, though! I did think maybe around their bosses he'd call Japan Ilbon-ssi or maybe seon-saeng-nim, but I digress. Thanks for the review!**

**IronfistTina: Thank you for reviewing! Aw, thank you- I'm glad that you'll be watching over this.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: *is too flattered* Really? Thank you soo much! It means a lot, coming from you. I try my best- I like to think that he's my more childish side. I did think it might be a bit depressing to Japan, but hey- happy ending, right? Yes- And again, thank you so much for all the help and correspondence! (Sorry that replies are increasingly late- midterms and quarterly exams are coming up and I need to study for them. TT_TT)**


	4. Cooking

**Day 4- Cooking~**

**Oh, I looked forward to this one so much. I have the best reviewers ever! I don't own Hetalia, or the Hyundai Sonata. Or Starcraft, or Xbox. I own the plotline, though! \(^0^)/**

_xixixixixiCookingixixixixix_

Neither of them was a bad cook- both of them were rather decent chefs. And they weren't into the whole "one has to be the girl, one has to be the boy" situation. Therefore it wasn't the more domestic one who cooked dinner for them- it was simply a matter of who finished work and came back to the home first.

Sometimes they lived in Japan's house. And sometimes they lived in Korea's home. It was spring, and they were living in Japan right now. On normal days, Korea would kiss Japan's forehead quickly on his way out the door- he would drive in his Hyundai Sonata to the Korean embassy in Tokyo to recieve paperwork and speak to [see: be talked at by]his boss and secretary.

As his bosses had done for years, Japan's would drop by to give Japan his work and documents, briefing him, then leaving. Japan would finish up the work needed, then relax or go out to run a few small errands.

Today, Japan had left the house to attend a G-8 meeting held in Japan- thus, with the chaos that was contained in those painfully long meetings, Korea got home first. Smiling to himself, he changed from his navy suit into his incorrect, yet favorite hanbok.

Humming an idle tune, he heads into the kitchen to see what he could make from what was there. He starts up the rice cooker, pouring a cascade of white grain into the container with an amount of water. He then pauses for a moment, closing his eyes, and revelling in the... the...

"Japan-ness, da ze." He decides. Yes, the Japan-ness of the house. He could smell green tea- it was Japan's favorite drink. He could smell the sea, and a hint of fish, both things that Japan loved. And then Japan's own personal scent. He thinks about it for a moment, and decides that the scent is comfort, and joy.

"If something like that has a scent, then that's what it smells like." He tells himself, knowing that assigning a scent to something intangible is silly, but not particularly caring. He finally decides on mackerel, something that both Asians like and something that Japan will actually be motivated to eat after tiring meetings.

He picks up several fish, and moves out to the back- grilling them is a smelly business. As he starts doing just that, he can hear a door near the front opening.

"Tadaima. (Equivalent of I'm home.)" The word is quiet, but Yong-Soo smiles to himself at the sound.

"I'm around back, Ilbon!" He shouts back. Again, he hears the slide of paper doors, and light footsteps to the edge of the home's raised floor. "So you didn't get held up by the others today, da ze?"

"No. America-san sends his regards, though. And he is still convinced that you hacked Starcraft 2 so that when you two play each other, that you would win."

Korea snorts a little, flipping a fish over. "[Winning] Starcraft originated in Korea, da ze. Of course I'd kick his butt at it." He says.

Japan suppresses a smile as Korea shrieks suddenly, and hurriedly flips another over.

He turns around to stare balefully at his boyfriend. "You were laughing at me in your head, weren't you?" Japan blinks innocently, and Korea finally grins.

"Well, whatever, da ze! The fish are done- you can go sit down."

"There are still things to be done, am I right? I will help you." Japan says, stepping into the kitchen.

Korea talks about his day happily, slicing vegetables and digging a jar of kimchi out of the refridgerator. Japan listens patiently to the chatter, thinking ruefully of the unproductive meeting, slicing fruit and making some simple soup.

There were days when Korea cooked, and there were days when Japan did. But their favorite days where when they would cook together.

_xixixixixiCookingixixixixix_

Omake:

"Everything was so good!" Korea exclaims as he enters the living room. "Ilbo-"

He falls silent when he realizes that the other nation is tapping away furiously at his Xbox controller. He smiles, pitying Prussia, and sits down next to him, laptop propped open on his lap. Yon-Soo grins evilly as he starts up a Starcraft 2 game with America. He winds an arm around the petite nation next to him, and they spend their evening in quiet harmony.

_xixixixixiCookingixixixixix_

**A;SLDKF- It's so short again. TT^TT I'm sooorry!**

**To my lovely reviewers!**

**Kankoku-ssi: I guess so, ^^. Seriously though, thank you. I try- and X_X He's so cheerful, I think it's making me into the airhead he is, OTL.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: I'm trying to make it a chapter-a-day fic, yes. I'm already behind, though, so wish me luck! Thank you, that's really flattering. ^/^. But now I feel this great pressure on my shoulders to write him well, OTL. Yes, that's right! I knew you would get it.**

**kiku-dii: A unicorn! Really! Yay! *rides new unicorn* Yes, there needs to be more kimchibowl.**

**IronfistTina: Thank you! I really hope I can live up to everybody's expectations, but yes, I'm trying to make it a chapter a day.**


	5. Truth or Dare? DO NOT READ SKIP IT

**Day 5- Truth or Dare?**

**Another AU- Gakuen Hetalia! ^_^ I named my unicorn! I wanted to name him Sir Ignatius the Third, but he didn't like it. So I just named him Charlie, because he's so boring. XP**

**...And yes, I just had sugar, and I haven't had any tea for an hour. That's why I'm acting crazy. It's also why this chapter is so crappy- so please skip the actual story and go straight to review responses, please. (Japan is so out of character- I can't write him. Sorry Kiku. Maybe I should have done it from Kiku's point of view?)**

**...Sorry, though, awesome reviewers-who-deserve-a-better-chapter. Sorry, cool readers. OTL**

_xixixixixiTruthixiorixiDare?ixixixixix_

Japan had _known_ this was a bad idea. He looked around the circle of people uncomfortably.

America had asked him if he had wanted to come to his birthday party. He had tried to duck out of it when the American had paused, an uncharacteristically sly look un his eyes. "Korea's going to be there..." He had said.

Japan cursed the day that the American had ever hooked up with the far more perceptive Englishman, even though the pictures _had_ been rather cute-

Right. The party.

The living room was crowded by a variety of nations- though much of the world was missing, having been busy. Alfred had pouted, but they had sent him gifts, so he was pacified. France, if he remembered right, had shoved a glass into his hands an hour in, insisting on his drinking it. He had, to be polite, and watched the other nations speak or play video games, or disappear into another room.

And Feliks had brought up the oh-so-cliche idea of playing truth or dare. Which brought him to the situation at hand.

Kiku was a secretive nation. He did not like sharing secrets, and he was rather protective of his dignity. So he usually opted out of these games. However, the other nations wouldn't hear of it, and even Korea had smiled tentatively at him.

He remembered why he had chosen to come, then. Ever since he had apologized to South Korea, Yong-Soo had been on eggshells around him. He had avoided him, toned down his personality, acted afraid of him. Shy, even.

He thrashes the irritation back into line, and bows. "Then, I suppose, I will...play." The last word drops reluctantly from his lips, and he seats himself between Korea and England.

Prussia grins widely then. "Then my awesomeness is going first!" He spins the bottle, and it points towards Denmark.

He's dared to steal Norway's clip- which doesn't end well, Norge was calmly pounding his head into the floor. America finally intervenes after having a good laugh about it.

The dares and truths go on, until at last, he is chosen by that thrice-damned bottle.

"Well, Japan? Truth or dare?" England asks politely when Japan says nothing. Germany, who'd spun the bottle raises an eyebrow.

"Ano...I think that I will go with dare, Germany-san." Japan says politely. He hopes he is in good hands- Ludwig is a calm, no-nonsense nation-

"Allemagne, so what will it be? Perhaps... something to do with our dear... South Korea?" France directs this statement at Germany, and Japan struggles between resentment and slight admiration. Resentment that the French man was handing him over to a hell of teasing, and admiration that France's ability to read people.

Germany considers. It was true that the odd behavior between them was disruptive in its own strange way. It was decided then, and he neatens his collar, looking up.

"OCD much, West?" Prussia calls out, and Germany looks disparagingly at him before turning to Japan.

"Japan, I'd like you and Korea to... talk out the tension between the two of you." Germany says. Korea stiffens for a moment before laughing nervously.

"Alright." Japan says blandly, walking into the kitchen, ignoring the cat-calls and the 'ooh's and the whistles. He can hear the others teasing South Korea as he gets up, and the silly nation laughs and teases back- "I owned your German ass in COD, Prussia." And Japan wonders why Korea cannot extend the common courtesy to him.

"Ilbon? Are you-" Japan looks up, and _glares._

Korea takes a full step back. "...Are you angry, da ze? Why?"

Japan shakes his head. "Annoyed, Kankoku-san. I am... irked, I confess." He doesn't know why he's being so honest. But then again, something about Korea ad always pushed him to honesty.

Korea looks at him. "...Why?" He's almost hurt- is Japan annoyed by his very presence? It was just that he didn't know how to act around Japan any more. Since he apologized, did Japan think that everything was done with? Did he really mean it? What did it mean for them?

"Kankoku-san, I am not the most honest, nor the most expressive of people." He says this plainly, and looks Korea in the eye. "But I try to treat everyone with how I really, truly act. I'd like you to extend tht courtesy to me, if it is convenient for you."

Korea is relieved and disappointed with it. There was one mystery solved, but... as that the only extent to how much Japan cared for him? Was that odd behavior, easily corrected, all Japan cared about.

"Forgive me- I was far too forward." Japan starts, brain finally catching up with his actions and bowing.

Korea moves forward. "No, no." He says faux-cheerfully. He's an excellent actor so it should be fine, right?

Japan looks at him a moment longer. He relents enough to smile. "I'm glad we got to speak to each other, Im-san." He steps towards Yong-Soo as well. "But Korea-san, I don't appreciate being lied to." The drink he had had earlier- the punch that France had insisted on him drinking. Had the Frenchman spiked it? His tongue was oddly looser than usual.

Korea started. "...Lying, da ze? Lies didn't originate in Korea, so I don't lie!" He says, smiling, forgetting for the moment the tense situation.

Japan moves his head to the side, a tired patience taking over his features. "Of course, Im-san."

There's an odd harmony in the moment, and both feel an instinct to move forward.

Korea smiles devilishly as he whispers, lips almost touching Kiku's, a question.

"Truth or dare, Ilbon?"

_xixixixixiTruthixiorixiDare?ixixixixix_

**It was so baaad, I'm sooorryyyy! I'm not good at cliche or party things- Some kind reviewer **_**please**_** send in an idea for tomorrow's Best Party on the Block prompt? Please?**

**Kankoku-ssi: I... You always manage to review within a few hours that a new chapter is out. Thank you oh so much, and I'M SO SORREH! Yes, he's a fun bubble, though he was weirdly angsty this chapter, OTL. That's what I get for only sleeping for 4 hours, I guess? It was kind of annoying, but it was kind of cute to see him with too-big sleeves. Um, yes, it does! ^_^UUU It originated in Korea so of course it works! **

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: You have reviewed every chapter so far. Thank you for sticking with me on this, and I apologize so much for the utter bad-ness of the chapter. (I'm starting to sound like Yong-Soo.) I swear, after we get out of the parties, the writing will improve. , is that so? Thank you! It's so fluffy, though- like a mutant hamster of something.**

**Just Me: Hi! :D A new reviewer! No, no, it isn't my mother tongue either, so its fine, perfectly fine. Yes, I enjoyed them besides this one, and I'm not going to enjoy the next one, either. *grumbles about parties in general* Really? *shiny eyes* Thank you! You too, have a nice day! **

**Inclinant: Yes, I had that reaction, too. Then I tried to do it with fish in Japanese, and it sounded even weirder. I tried the idea with Obsessed, and it sounded so horrid, we promised never to speak its name ever again. It does, right? So weird... Thank you for reviewing, second new reviewer! I'm glad that you like them, and I really loved writing the first few. Korea... usually I take pride in writing him, and I apologize to both you and Just Me that the first chapter after you two's first reviews is so terrible. Really. I swear after we're out of the party genre, that they'll get better.**

**kiku-dii: Really? I will now go to see if you have stories, and read them! ^_^ I bet I'll like them, and I'll see if I can drop some reviews! I'm sorry that this chapter is so bad, though. **

***does dogeza to everyone* I apologize from the bottom of my heart. Please, some merciful person review with an idea for the next chapter... maybe planning the party? I don't knoooow. *cries* **


	6. Best Party on the Block!

**Day 6- Best Party on the Block**

**Everyone who sent in ideas, thank you all! :D At first, I was like: =D, Pool Party! Then I realized that I've never been to one. Then I looked at the cleaning up idea, and I realized that... I had no clue what to use for that memory-evoking object- and for that, I needed something perfect. So I put the idea aside for another chapter.**

**Finally, I gave up and incorporated a idea I randomly had when I was at school- Wedding time! So I twisted the prompt terribly, but it's a long chapter. **

**The last part of this long authors note- is that it's angsty. Again. Not my specialty, to put it lightly. So we'll be reverting to fluff soon enough for the next chapters, I hope! So onwards!**

_!ixixixixix_

It was, in short, the perfect wedding. Yong-Soo had pinned down every detail, differentiated the different whites the wedding was coated in, ordered the flowers, decided on a beauteous meadow for the location, even sat next to Roderich and dictated as the Austrian composed the wedding music. He did all of this with a bright and unfaltering smile, because this was going to be perfect, and had to be, for Kiku. He had impressed nigh on every nation with this show.

But Yong-Soo was not the one getting married. It was Greece, it was Heracles, to be more accurate, who was going to be married.

While the others were impressed by his responsibility and the utter perfection of the wedding, they were more awed by his ability to look so delighted and even going as far as to plan the event that would break his heart.

Because really, it had literally broken South Korea when Japan had told him about it, giddy with a type of quiet delight, over the phone.

Tears had been streaking down his face, but he smiled widely and said; "Weddings originated in me, da ze! May I plan it?" in the most cheerful voice that he could muster.

In the public eye, Korea was floating on air, arguing playfully with Elizabeta and Feliks over shades of ivory with almost no difference, teasing the to-be married couple with sly jokes.

In private, each day, he would slump over his favorite table and cry. He'd stare longingly at the bottle of soju next to him, but his alcohol tolerance was too fucking low- he got drunk too easily and he wouldn't be able to keep up with his act tomorrow if he drank it, misery be damned-

The phone rings, and he hoists a smile on his face. "Hello? South Korea, wedding planner extraordinaire speaking!"

There's a pause, and then the person speaks. "Dude... I don't know how to say this but, saying it straight... Are you alright with this, man?"

It's America, and Yong-Soo's smile slips because America knows. But America didn't understand- England had pined after Alfred for years and had been delighted when America had confessed right before Francis asked Arthur to marry him.

"Yes... Alfred, Kiku is happy. Ilbon is happy, and I can't bear it when he isn't- you know that."His voice is a soft, worn-out whisper. "Greece-seon-saeng-nim makes him happy, and I can't take that away from him."

"Wait- Yong-" America says with an element of shock. "This isn't like you. Where's all that Korean spirit?"

Korea manages a weary smile. "Korean spirit, huh? I've been channeling it into the wedding- I need to regain it for tomorrow."

America sighs. "Hey, man- you don't have to go to the wedding. Y'know that Greece would understand."

South Korea laughs dryly. "I need to at least show up. I... It would hurt Japan's feelings. We've only just become fairly good friends... it'd hurt him if I didn't show up at his wedding."

America huffed a little. "At least you refused to be best man. So, get to bed, dragon dude. Brave and great, right? And don't touch that alcohol."

"Yeah... 'Night, Alfred." He hangs up with a click, and surveys his white and navy suit for his figurative death tomorrow.

"Must I go...?" He moans to himself. It's a stupid question, he knows that. He sighs. "Yes. I must at least try."

He had opted out of the bachelor party, at least- he had said that he still had some paperwork. He knew he would have cried, then. He would have cried over having to give Japan away. Hong Kong, America, England and China had all understood. Maybe he wouldn't go tomorrow, either. He snorted at the notion. Of course he would go.

He reached for a shot glass nonetheless, and raises the cup. "To Greece and... and Japan." He says quietly, tipping the alcohol into his mouth. He lets the cool liquid weigh in his mouth before swallowing.

_!ixixixixix_

Turkey wanders the streets, staring at the moon. He was in the same situation as South Korea- but he couldn't cope with it as well, he finds. He does his absolute best to avoid both grooms, and just stays quiet- which he isn't exactly good at doing.

He pauses for a moment in his wanderings, recognizing that he probably should find a place to stay the night- Korea had refused to be best man, claiming that it was enough to be the wedding planner, sillies. So it had fallen on Turkey, Greece's longtime rival, and Japan's friend. He had accepted the honor, and shook their hands, wondering if this was how it felt to sell your soul over to the devil.

In any case, he had to show up to the ceremony tomorrow, so instead of finding a good bar, he goes into the hotel that Korea's staying in. He gets the feeling that Yong-Soo needs the company as much as he does.

Turkey knocks at Korea's door. The door opens, and Korea has on his brilliant, most gaudy smile. It falls as he sees who it is. He opts for a sadder, more natural one, and welcomes the man in. "Sit down." He says, disappearing for a moment to get another cup. He sets it down, and pours the Turkish man a glass of alcohol.

"How?" Only one word is spoken, but it's in a raw, hoarse voice. "How do you do it? How do you cope when your world falls apart?" Korea lowers his glass of soju, looking at the liquid inside intently.

"Because. Because Ilbon is happy, and I swore I'd always be when he was." Korea says, and he raises his glass.

Turkey raises his to clink against Korea's. "You're braver than I am. To broken hearts and drinking the pain away." He says quietly.

Yong-Soo's smile is a bit strangled. "I'm not brave. I just have lots and lots of Korean spirit, da ze!" He says, but acquiesces, just a little.

"To broken hearts, and brave ones. To courage." He says, and the rest of the night is spent in silence, occasionally broken by the clinking of a glass or bottle.

_!ixixixixix_

They wake up to the sound of voices. "I tell you, England, he's going to have gone for the alcohol! He's been... really heroic for the past few months, but the dude has limits!" America's voice is concerned. "Love... The poor man is entitled to his alcohol. Look at what he's been through. Look at what both Turkey and Korea have been going through." England's voice is calmer, but also concerned. They hear a click as the door is opened.

"Oi! Yong-Soo! Not cool, man, I said no alcohol!" America yells as he sees the bottles of soju scattered in an oddly organized disarray. Korea looks up from where he's nursing a glass of orange juice and a glass bowl of celery.

"Sorry, Miguk..." He says with a weak smile. "Couldn't resist." He swallows his glass down, and sticks a piece of celery in his mouth. "Yeong-guk-seon-saeng-nim!" His grin is up and running. "I got a little carried away drinking- I just needed an excuse to do it, and the wedding was right there, da ze! How fortunate, right?"

England decides to play along with Korea, after a moment of deliberation. "Really? Korea, you have terrible alcohol tolerance, you should watch your drinking." He says, squatting down to take his now-empty glass. "I'll get you another glass of juice."

Korea nods, and England moves into the hotel's kitchenette. America bends down to Korea, looking at his best friend's eyes carefully. "Are you going to come, South Korea? Be honest with me, dude."

America is completely serious, and his blue eyes show concern. Yong-Soo smiles, just a little bit, and opens his mouth to give a confident yes-

"No." All four men in the room freeze in shock. Korea blinks rapidly, then tries again. "I mean, of cou- ...I… put all this work into it, right? I should go and see it, let all the nice people thank me..." He trails off, and takes the suit off of the hanger. He takes a deep breath, and he walks into the bathroom.

"Don't worry, everybody. I'll be able to say yes when I come out, da ze!" He says, and walks into the bathroom. Turkey and America exchange looks. They confer in small flurries: "Do you think he'll be okay?" "This is Korea. He... he is strong. Kore will be alright." Turkey says, smiling a bit wryly. "Kore.. is braver than me. He will grin and bear it."

England reemerges, lips tight as he sets the glass cup of orange juice down. "Babe, what is it?" America walks over, and takes his hand. "I'm...just worried about how it's going to go." He says, green eyes on the bathroom door.

It opens, and Korea is impeccable in navy, white, and just a hem of gold. His hair is combed neatly, and his face is set in a carefree smile. "Turkey, your turn, da ze!" He says cheerfully.

Alfred looks at him as Turkey disappears into the bathroom with a small bag.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Alfred asks one more time, and both English-speaking nations look at him seriously. The carefree smile falls away, and he closes his eyes. "Yes. I am sure." His voice is wobbly, but its strong, and it has the ring of truth in its four words.

Turkey emerges, neat and just as perfect, with the same fake smile. Korea picks up the juice and offers it to him. "I hear its good for hangovers, seon-saang-nim." He says mock-seriously, smiling. Turkey smiles back at his companion-in-plight. "I suppose it is, Kore." He says with the same mock-serious tone.

They both turn to England and America. "Well, let's get this show on the road!" America says, grinning at the two men. England nods. "It wouldn't do to be late to the very wedding you planned. And you're the best man, Turkey." Turkey nods, and Korea bounces in anticipation.

"I'm so excited, da ze! It's going to be so wonderful and perfect, and it'll be because of me!" He almost sings, brimming with spirit and excitement.

They arrive a little early, and Greece spots them. The cold feet he might have had about his decision disappeared when he saw bags under Turkey's eyes when he briefly takes his mask off to polish, and the too-happy looking Korea. Korea runs over to him to throw his arms around him. "Greece seon-saeng-nim! Congratulations!" The Asian nation tears up a little, and he brushes them off. "I'm so happy, I could cry." He claims, and the tears smudge slightly the concealer used to meticulously hide his own bags.

Greece lets a lethargic smile spread across his face. Yes. He was going to do it. Turkey smiles as he comes forward, and he holds out a hand. "I know we're usually on bad terms, but- congratulations, Yunanistan." The mask is back on, and there is no indicator that the man is anything but genuinely happy for his rival. Greece shakes the hand of the man he used to hate so much, and feels a surge of warmth.

"Thank you... thank you both." He says slowly, and touches Korea's shoulder. "Thank you for all you have done for the wedding, Νότια Κορέα. It's beautiful."

It was. Festoons of creamy ivory covered everything in an elegant, ethereal, snow-like effect. There were also some other colors mixed in- a navy hem on some of the cloth, pale pink cloth with gold hems mixed in with all the white, a manila color making the white seem that much crisper. The chairs were white and gold, the cloth for the aisle pure white, and the arrangements of vases or bowls were refined and tasteful. It was a scene out of a fairy tale, with the wild flowers and the youthful trees. This was the private refuge of the actual wedding- one lucky news team was assigned to cover it quietly, though the reception would be completely public.

Yong-Soo smiled. "I would do nothing less." He says, before rushing off to rearrange the olive twigs, chrysanthemums, and cherry blossoms floating in one transparent dish of water. Turkey nods a polite goodbye, and follows after. But Greece finds that he doesn't want him to go.

In another part of the site, further away from the lot full of cars, Japan was preparing with China. "Japan, the tie won't hang any straighter, aru. Don't murder it." China reprimands him lightly. Japan nods, then smooths out the pale pink and gold tie.

China smiles a little sadly. It had been saddening for him to watch Korea these past few months. Deciding on colors, on music, on location, on everything, with a smile to match the sun in brightness. He looks at Japan, who seems nervous.

"Japan, what's on your mind?" China asks. Japan looks up, a stoic face on. "China-san..." He starts, looking down. "Korea... he has been very hyper about all of this. Do you know why?" He probes carefully, patting down his black bangs. He observes Yao carefully out of his peripheral view.

China fidgets a little with the white ribbon holding his ponytail in place. "I... do not know why." He consoles himself with the fact that it isn't entirely a lie- he had suspicions, but he did not know.

Japan, sensing that Yao didn't want to speak of it, nodded, and backed off on the topic. Instead, he asked a different question. "Are you unhappy that I'm marrying Heracles-san?" He asks, shifting through the atmosphere carefully as he waited for an answer.

"I... I am not unhappy, per se." The Chinese man says quietly. He brings up a different, more minor reason. "It's kind of sad, to hand away a precious little brother aru." He says, staring at his panda. _And sadder still, to see another torn apart by it. Once, I had hoped that it would be Yong-Soo you would marry. Once upon a time._

_!ixixixixix_

It was finally time, and all the guests were seated. Roderich began a sweet, mellow melody on the white piano, flowing, low, and almost sleepy. Greece was walked down the aisle with Turkey, both whom were smiling. They reached the minister, who smiled pleasantly at them. The music flowed into a more complex, lilting melody, full of patience and kindness, of thought and heart._ Roderich, Yong-Soo, both of you have outdone yourselves_. Elizabeta notes, turning the page for the Austrian. The ceremony was beautiful thus far, the best wedding she'd ever been to. Korea really should become a wedding planner, she muses, though she's also heartbreakingly sad for the Korean who's beaming in the front row as China brings Kiku up.

The minister begins the vows, and everything goes smoothly. When the minister proclaims: "Speak now! Or forever hold your peace," it's silent, though several people die a little inside. After a while, the man turns to Greece, and says: "Do you, Heracles Karpusi, take Honda Kiku to be your husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?" Greece pauses for an awful, awful, second. Can he go through with it after all? He wonders. Would it be easier to just not do it? He catches sight of Korea and Turkey, smiling while tears streak down their cheeks, as their friends or family hold some part of them.

He opens his mouth, and he says: "I don't." There's an uproar then, utter chaos, and he can see the hurt and shock in Kiku's eyes. "You don't love me, Kiku." He says quietly. "Go find the person you do." He runs, then, disappears into the forest, and Turkey goes tearing after him. This leaves all guests utterly shell-shocked and staring.

Kiku looks around, looking so lost, so vulnerable. A single, lone, tear is all he allows himself before turning to walk quickly away into a secluded area.

Korea is just as shocked as everyone else by the turn of events, but goes after Japan, recovering quickly. He follows the sound of quiet crying, and he finds Japan, sobbing almost silently into his hands. He hugs the smaller man to him.

"Hey, Ilbon. This is what handkerchiefs are for- they originated in Korea, you know." He whispered gently in Japan's ear, which cheers him up a little.

"Are you alright, Ilbon?" Korea tries to draw back to look at him, but Kiku won't let go of him. "I'm just going to hold you for a while, then. Okay?"

And he does. He rocks a little, holding the man he was in love with, humming lullabies. "I loved him." Japan finally speaks, and the voice is small, confused. "But he says I didn't. He says that I needed to go find the person I did love. What did he mean?"

Korea tightens his grip on him, and whispers to him. "Maybe you do. Who knows? But Heracles is a smart guy. You should think about it." Korea, too, wonders why Greece decided against marrying the best person in the world.

Japan wonders why he feels so safe in Yong-Soo's arms. He wonders idly why, when he was feeling like his world split into two a few moments ago, he was so much more tranquil, comforted, nearly happy.

Could he... Could he possibly had been in love with Korea this whole while? Possibly, could this be what the cat-lover was talking about?

_!ixixixixix_

**And Fin! The internet tells me that orange juice and celery are hangover cures. And I don't really know about Turkey, so I really hope he wasn't OOC. DX**

**It's... again angsty, OTL. But I like this one infinitely better than the other one. Anyway, I liked writing this. Sorry, Yong-Soo, but I like writing you suffering too much. **

**To the reviewers whom, for some reason, reviewed the last chapter!**

**Kankoku-ssi: No, I'm sure you do have a life- but still, I really appreciate it. ...? Squeal? Why? *confused* ?**

**kiku-dii: Hi Jojo! Yeah, I went through that for months. DX Then I manned up and actually did it! (Though I'm a girl.) Oh, those are all good ideas! ^_^ *stores away for later use* I should make Korea pathetic at it- or not. *thinking of Kim Yun-ah* Ehehehe...**

**Just Me: Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't blame you. ^_^ I try not to be a grammar nazi unless the person is a native English speaker. That's when its annoying. Yes, I have nooo interest in romance outside of the 2D world, so I decided to go with Ludwig, who would go with a nice, sensible dare. No, no! I just put the idea away for another chapter! ^_^ Ah, yes, the over-dramatizing of Poland. Personally, I just think he likes those clothes/colors on a personal choice- it isn't really a matter of being stupidly girly. *bows back* Hope you enjoyed!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: There is no way! Of course I'd be grateful to someone who actually sticks with me! It was, OTL. -_- It was kind of random, but it was kind of impulsive- something I put in on a whim. 'Oh, it can't get any worse, so whatever' kind of thing. Poland is one of my favorite characters, as is Germany! So I tried to express my headcanon Poland, and try to write a Germany that made sense. No, no, it's fine.**


	7. Movies!

**Day 7- Movies**

**Sorry for the delay, guys- I've had to be more discreet about writing the chapters. Ugh, parents. **

**The internet tells me that 'Tale of Two Sisters' is one of the scariest K-horror movies.**

**Now for some more fluff and cuteness- cue chapter 7! **

_xixixixixiMoviesixixixixix_

Japan was spending a calm afternoon with England, sipping tea and politely discussing different mannerisms and politics. There was soft music playing, and the garden around them provided them with a soothing, quiet atmosphere, in contrast to the stormy clouds outside.

Still, to both it seemed to be a little too quiet- their lovers were both loud, flamboyant, fun-loving people, big children at heart. After spending so much time with them, it felt odd, the lack of noise and laughter.

England brings this up after a moment. "It...feels kind of odd, doesn't it? The quiet." He says this kind of awkwardly, discomfort with the oddness of the quiet visible.

Japan inclines his head slightly and opens his mouth when-

"Ilbon! Are you home?" A raised voice echoed through to them. "Miguk (America) got lost again on his way here!"

The two nations in the garden raise brows at each other. They both smile a little, though, and Japan says to England: "Igirisu-san, you're a prophet." with quiet amusement.

"I suppose so." He says, and the two other nations walk in.

"Old man! Happy to see me?" America exclaims with delight, and walks over to hug him. "Get off of me, git, we're in public." England hisses at him, reddening. "It's not like I'm glad to see you, so belt up."

The Asian pair is less noisy about their greeting- Korea kisses the top of his head lightly and briefly, and Japan pats his hand as they exchange hellos. "Ilbon, hi. How's your day been going?" "Well, Kankoku-san. And yours?"

"Why are you even here, Alfred?" England queries, picking up the forgotten cup of tea. America brightens, and pulls a movie out of his jacket.

"Well, I wanted to watch a horror movie, and Korea recommended one for me- it's called The Tale of Two Sisters." Japan raises an eyebrow at Korea. "Well, I tried to show him a cartoon, but he didn't fall for it." Yong-Soo says cheerfully. "Then I left him playing video games while I went to get a cider and a coke, and he had found my stash of horror movies I hide behind my video games."

"The psychological one?" England asks, a large brow arching up to his hair. Yong-Soo smiles. "Yes! The one I talked about- the one I didn't really want to show Alfred." He's cheerful as he says this, and then moves off to Japan's television room.

Alone, he ponders how he can manage to keep America from watching the movie. His brown eyes narrow slightly as he rummages through the DVD cases beneath the flat-screen television- the one, he remembers with a fond smile, he had insisted that Japan get just a week ago. He finds a likely one, and calls for America to get him the case.

Using his sleight of hand, he manages to switch them without the American nation noticing. He goes to slip it into the player when the blond clutches at his arm, shrieking, as thunder rumbles.

The dvd in his sleeve clatters to the ground, and America frowns at him a little. "Hey, why are you switching it?" Sweatdropping, he laughs nervously. "It was to see if you're keeping your reflexes sharp- to be the hero!" He says. He's sorry to manipulate America like this, but there isn't an easier way out.

America grins then, proudly. "You can't fool me! I'm the hero!" He says cheerfully, and helplessly, Korea puts it into the player as their lovers come in and seat themselves.

_xixixixixiMoviesixixixixix_

America screams, screaming he'd claim was "manly" later, and nearly strangles an unnerved looking England. Korea is watching wide-eyed, and stifles a gasp. Japan keeps a straight face, but his hands tremble, and his eyes show some measure of fear and disgust.

The credits roll, and America is whimpering, and also won't let go of England's arm. As lighting flashes, illuminating the room through the paper doors, he looks as if he will faint.

Japan shows the two Western nations into a guest room, and the England exchanges 'good night's with the couple in the doorway.

On their way down the hall, Korea is oddly quiet. "Yong-Soo-san?" Japan touches his shoulder, and he jumps. "Ah- mian, mian. (Sorry, sorry.) What is it?" Korea asks with a sheepish smile.

He wonders, just a little bit, if Japan is scared [as well]. "Ilbon, are you scared?" He asks bluntly, adjusting the tie on his hanbok. Japan scrutinizes him for a moment, then answers honestly.

"No. Unnerved a bit, Korea-san. But not scared. Not quite." They reach Japan's bedroom, and Korea, shuddering, wraps his arms tightly around Japan, holding him in his lap while Japan clears off and signs papers.

Japan finishes up, and looks up at Korea. "Well, Kankoku-san? Are you ready to sleep?" Korea shakes his head vigorously, clutching him to his chest to inhale his soothing scent- the intangible comfort and joy, green tea, the salty smell of the sea, even a hint of the fish that the Japanese man likes so much.

Kiku is a little disturbed- horror movies never effected Korea this way. But nonetheless, he pats Korea's head, carding through the dark hair, and resting his forehead against it. Korea's breathing slows, and he smiles down at Japan gratefully.

But he's a silly person, so he hugs Japan cheerfully, claiming loudly that hugging originated in Korea, so he was going to hug Kiku until they fell asleep.

Both laugh a little before preparing for, then getting to, bed. Korea snuggles up against Japan, and he whispers a 'saranghae' before kissing him chastely. Kiku is not so open with his affections, but presses a quick kiss to Korea's cheek- an unspoken 'I love you'.

They chase out thoughts of the movie as they fall asleep- it's free of the nightmares that any scary movie may bring. And they fall asleep happy, because unlike Su-Yeon- thet have a tomorrow.

_xixixixixiMoviesixixixixix_

**Gah, the ending is so much fail. I used up all my creativity on yesterday's wedding chapter. X_X**

**To la reviews~ (I love you guys so much- over 20 reviews!)**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Really? Then the effect I wanted was achieved, mwahahaha. I wanted to ease you people into the start, then shock you. Glad you liked it! I loved writing suffering!noble!Korea a little too much, OTL. Really? O_O Wow, oops. But yay, I learned something new about British people! \(^O^)/**

**Just Me: Yes, go different time zones! You thought there were that many good things? O_O Of course I thought it was a good idea! Well, it's a yaoi wedding, which, according to most sites, she enjoys. She slashes kimchibowl more, but she'll take what she can get. Poland is because- well, it's Poland. Korea sought him out for color scheme,and what colors match pale pink best.**

**Kankoku-ssi: Thank you! ^_^ Really? You love it? *faints from shock* Too...much...praise...**

**kiku-dii: Yes. I spent so much time writing it, X_X. I had intended for Korea to be sad, but Greece insisted on leaving Japan at the altar. Really? What show is it, it sounds funny. ^_^ Glad that I lived up to your expectations- I will do my best!**


	8. TV Browsing!

**Day 8- TV Browsing**

**So, does everybody have cavities yet? I decided to misunderstand the prompt and do the shopping trip when Korea forced Japan to get the flat-screen. And then some actual channel browsing.**

**My mom has banned me from this site- so my updates are going to be sporadic- (aka, when I can get away with uploading and writing chapters for this.) So please, bear with me, and I swear I'll do my best! Plus, I didn't get to edit in my hurry to put this up before my mom notices, so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes!**

__

Yong-Soo surveyed his closet carefully before deciding on a white t-shirt, gray jacket, and a pair of jeans. _Casual. Don't want to draw attention- Ilbon doesn't like drawing attention._ He reminds himself, and tosses a wallet, his phone, a slim book, and a PSP into a gray messenger bag, along with several black files.

His secretary is waiting outside with her Hyundai Azera. He greets her cheerfully, and the no-nonsense woman tells him to just get in the car. Kim Jeong-In is the only woman who didn't quit the job after a week with Yong-Soo.

She drops him off, telling him to say hello to Japan for her- and that she pitied the other nation. Smirking at him, she drives back into the streets of Incheon, Korea. He sticks his tongue out at the retreating figure of the car.

He enters the airport and boards his plane without any trouble, and finishes up his files during the flight. As the plane touches down, he lets a large smile spread across his face, and happily thanks the flight attendant, who, for a reason he doesn't know, blushes.

He walks quickly out of the boarding area, and out into the lobby that Japan said he'd meet him in. He looks around a little bit, smile faltering. Was he late? Japan was never late. Was he sick? Hurt? Panicking now, he paces around the lobby until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He spins around suddenky to see Kiku with a tiny smile on his mouth, looking calm and unruffled, and wonderfully, beautifully unhurt and well. "Kiku!" He exclaims, hugging him exuberantly. Japan pushes a little against him- people are staring, and it's embarrassing. But when Korea refuses to let go, he leans against the taller man to wait the hug out. It's been awhile since he's last seen Korea- almost a month. Yong-Soo smells the same- barley tea, Sharon Rose, various foods, and a scent that was just...Korea.

The taller finally relinquishes his grip on him, and smiles brightly at him. "So, are you ready to go shopping?"

Ah, yes. the point of Korea's visit. The man was a bit of an airhead, and after his last visit to Japan's house, he had insisted that they go shopping for electronics. Thus, he had finished up his meetings and appointments for the time, filling up his schedule completely.

"I suppose so." He says, and turns to the direction of the exit. It will be simplest, he believes, to just do as he says- to get it over with.

__

Japan was rethinking his decision when they finally arrive back at his home. They'd bought a flat-screen (,really, the things he would do for Korea), been chased around by random citizens when a passerby had accidently soaked the other man's white shirt, and now Korea wanted to hook it up.

Exasperated, he sighs. Why did he agree to do this again? He wonders, but immediately feels guilty for even thinking that.

"I- Ilbon, I'm sorry." He turns around to see Yong-Soo, a guilty look spread across his face. The Korean is soaking wet, miserable-looking, and Japan can't help but open his arms to the sad nation.

Korea runs into them, and he apologizes over and over for the hectic excursion, ignoring Japan's assurances that it was alright.

After a few minutes, Yong-Soo pulls back, telling him- "I'm getting your shirt wet. So...um..." He shifts. "Am I forgiven?"

Kiku blinks, taken aback, then half-smiles. "Go hook up your new toy, Kankoku-san." He says a bit playfully. He himself walks upstairs to see if Korea had left any shirts behind last time he had visited.

He had, and Japan unfolds a black one, smiling just little at how Korea's stuff was always at his home.

He goes downstairs, and Korea is busily plugging things in and formatting expertly with a cheerful smile on his face.

"Yong-Soo-san." Japan says to catch his attention, giving him the shirt, then busying himself with the remote with a slight blush.

"Thanks, Kiku!" He says cheerfully, and tugs the remote out of the other's hands. "Go sit down." The Korean gestures towards the cushions laid out in front of the monstrously large electronic.

Japan does so, and Korea puts on a K-drama, ducking into another room to change his shirt. Kiku watches with mild interest as an actor that bears similarities to Yong-Soo comes onto the screen. "I hate you." The words are imbued with a deep hatred, and Japan's earlier light-hearted mood vanishes.

"I'll never forgive you." The words are a dark hiss, and Japan can't help but remember a time when his boyfriend's gaze had held the same type of torrenting, utter, disgust. "Goodbye...forever. From now on, I don't know you anymore." He stops the video, scrambling to turn the TV off, burying his head in his arms and taking deep breaths.

"Kiku? What's wrong- did you not like it? I can find a different one for you." Gentle hands place themselves on his shoulders, but the smaller Asian is buried within memories and raw nerves. Dark anger. Unterminable defiance. Tears so full of anguish, they could have been blood.

"Ilbon?" It was clear that Korea wasn't going to get an answer. He turned the video back a few minutes. "I hat-"

Sighing, he clicks it off, wrapping his arms quietly around the other nation. "It's done and over with, Ilbon. There's nothing we can do to change that- nothing good will come of kicking yourself about it." Korea smiles with sad eyes- but he doesn't say that it's alright. Because it isn't.

Japan doesn't want pardon- he wants acceptance. And Korea has given it to him. "I'm here now, Ilbon. I'm here, and as your equal. Your friend, and your lover." He whispers.

"It was... so blue." Korea immediately quiets- Japan is being completely honest with him right now, at his most vulnerable. "I destroyed you. I was so, so tired with smiling while you always looked through me to see China. I was so tired of you idolizing China. I snapped. I wanted-" Kiku's eyelids flutter, then close as his voice breaks.

"I was so very selfish. But yet... I thought: 'On this day, when everything I've ever had with them is going to end... it's kind of annoying, that the sky is so blue.' There wasn't a cloud in sight when I first began to conquer you." His voice is pained, and he's limp, just leaning against South Korea.

"And yet... on that day when you knelt on the ground in front of me, when I finally did conquer you, the sky knew my heart, and the clouds cried with me." It was just like Japan, to be waxing poetic even in the throes of heartbreak. A tone of wonder filled the man's voice as he continued.

"And yet... and yet you still knew that I was crying." He says, and the dark eyes open to stare at the black shirt under them. He's kind of comforted as he feels Korea's chuckles reverberate throughout both their bodies.

"Of course I did. I've always known it when you've cried." He says very quietly, and he rocks Japan gently.

The air hangs above them with unspoken words, and unspoken memories. But both are silent, and the tension of the silence slowly winds down. Between tears, sudden mood-changings, both nations are tired. And so they stay like that until night falls.

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**...What the heck happened to this chapter? ?_?**

**Anyway, I'm sorry, reviewers! I will attempt not to die.**

**kiku-dii: It was fluffeh, and I think I choked on in while writing it, OTL. Ah, no, it's perfectly fine- it's a side-effect for being a writer. I MUST PERSEVERE! Yes, yes, reviewing is very helpful. It's motivating, and it makes me very, very happy. Really? Sounds like fun. Oh wow, lol.**

**IronfistTina: Ah, many apologies. ^_^UUU Though I'm glad that my writing seemed that good- I really worked super-hard on that chapter, so thank you very much! (It took me two days to write. _) **

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: It sounds confusing- I looked up a summary of it, and it's the most confusing thing ever. -_- Most of the actual movie is a hallucination. Really? I'm glad. ^_^ (England is sort of difficult to write when he interacts with Korea and Japan, OTL.) I just draw the parallels I see- I call 'em as I see 'em. Really, now? That's super interesting- I wonder why you'd use endearments as an address to strangers. No, no, information is awesome.**

**Kankoku-ssi: *revives because of reviews* I'm alive! Thank you! (America was easy- England was not.)**

**Inclinant: Yes, I remember you! (The kimchibowl one, the one that agreed with me on its weird name) Ah, me too. I'm happy to hear that so many people liked it! *smiles* Do come back soon!**

**Just Me: Yes ma'am (I'm assuming you're a girl, sorry)/sir! Really? *isn't Polish so knows nothing about Poland's history* Cool, fact to add in in anything I may write about those two! Yes, I knew Alfie would freak out and strangle poor Arthur. You have a good imagination- I applaud you! Wait... O_O THAT'S THE FIRST TIME I'VE MADE THEM ACTUALLY KISS, OHMYGOSH. Sorry for the late update!**

**JollyFanta: Hear that, everybody? We've converted another one! :3 No, no, thank you for reviewing. If you have any ideas, and if the prompt allows, I will do my best! **


	9. Phone Calls!

**Day-9 Phone Calls**

**And I'm back! Okay, I'm going to shut up now and let you read the chapter.**

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Yong-Soo liked archery.

The polished wood of the traditional bow and arrow fit neatly into his hands, and he pulls the bowstring back in a smooth, practiced movement.

He closes his eyes, thinking only of the target, and releases the arrow.

The red-feathered missile hits the target with a neat thunk.

Archery is simple, a flurry of movement, a game of single-minded concentration.

There's no room for other thought- it's peaceful, a meditative loneliness-

'Gee gee gee gee, baby, baby, baby~'

He drops his next arrow in surprise at the sudden noise as his iPhone goes off. He gently puts his bow down, then pulls his phone out of the too-big sleeve of his favorite hanbok.

"Hello? Im Yong-Soo speaking!" He says excitedly.

...What? He likes phone calls, too.

"Uh...Korea? Um... are ya still mad about the whole FTA thing?" America's voice is hesitant- Korea, acting accordingly with his people, had flown into a rage at his boss, and had locked himself in his home for a week, only speaking to Kiku.

"No, no." He laughs easily. It's not completely a lie, anyway- America's not the one he's angry with. It was Lee Myung-bak that he was less-than-pleased with.

"Ah, good!" America seems too relieved to prattle about his heroics. Korea is kind of relieved.

"Didn't you just fly to England? You should be resting- if Yeong-guk seon-saeng-nim finds out I'm keeping you up, he'll have my head, da ze." Korea says suddenly, remembering where America is. "I rather like my head, Alfred." He pouts sullenly.

America laughs at that, shouts an assurance to the 'old man' that he's resting, and bids Korea a good day. Korea hangs up, and stares at the rapidly darkening sky. "... It's dark already!" He exclaims, and goes into his house. He bites his lip a little- Japan hasn't called yet.

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Korea enters the kitchen in that favorite hanbok of his- just because its Japan's favorite, too. He wanders over to the stove and picks up a teabag of green tea. He wrinkles his nose a little at it, making a face at it.

Yong-Soo disliked green tea- he preferred barley- but green tea reminded him almost painfully of Japan, and if he closed his eyes and breathed, he could almost imagine Japan sitting in front of him. Smiling that slow curve of the lips that was reserved just for him.

Make-believe was good, but he wanted to hear Kiku's voice.

So he picks up his iPhone, and dials a number that's scorched into the fabric of his mind, behind his eyelids. He hopes hopes hopes that it isn't a bad time for Japan- he himself was only busy in the mornings usually, so it was best for Japan to make the calls.

"Kankoku-san?" There is was. Those polite and mellow tones, those slight lilts, that Japanese. Yong-Soo smiles, and sighs happily. "Hi, Ilbon. I just wanted to hear your voice."

He wishes he could see the way Japan's face will blush when he says that, tiredly, and honestly. To be truthful- he was embarrassed by the sappiness and cheesiness of the line, too.

There's a slight pause as both men close their eyes, basking in the other's presence, and trying to regain composure.

"Ilbon, how was your day?" Korea asks, reflecting on some of the continuous misses, the tedious paperwork, how everything had seemed less fun and appealing. He smiles, though, as he breathes in the scent of the tea that he set lightly on the stove to steep.

"My day went well, Yong-Soo-san. And yours?" There's a lot he doesn't say about how his day went- like how he searched through animes and various cartoons that Korea had voiced and played them throughout the lonely hours. How he had opted for a cold glass of barley tea instead of his usual hot green tea. How less bright the world had seemed.

"Okay, I guess. I mean, it was fun, of course, I spent it in Korea, after all. You know the private archery range that I have out back? After I finished voice-acting for the day, I spent the afternoon there." He prattles lightly, grinning as he hears Japan's polite 'ah's, and 'I see's.

Korea's chatter is reassuring, and he sips at the ice-cold tea, shivering a little. He had spent the day doing paperwork, practicing calligraphy, and going through tea ceremonies. The world had seemed less full of possibilities, and he had found no reason to go out.

Korea, on the other hand, hadn't been able to bear the emptiness of his home, and had spent the day on the range so he wouldn't have to think about how much he missed Kiku- and it hadn't entirely worked.

"And you? How was your day, Ilbon?" He asks, pouring the green tea into a mug, sitting down on his sofa, moving from the kitchen.

"Alright. It was... very peaceful, and it was a safe trip back. There is no need to worry." Japan says, knowing that the carefree seeming Korean had worried about him.

Said Korean flushes, knowing that Japan knew it. "I see. Worrying didn't originate in Korea, so I'll be sure to keep from it." He says lightly, smiling just from this contact with the person he loved so much.

"Korea-san, you're getting up early tomorrow." The statement marks the coming end of the phone call- and Korea's face falls. "I know." He says. There's something that neither has said that's pending now.

"Good night, Yong-Soo-san." Japan says, ending his part of the call. He will not say it, and half-hopes that Yong-Soo won't say it either.

"Good night, Kiku. Love you...M- Bye. I'll see you in a few days, alright?" Korea tries to say it in a valiant effort, but in the end, he can't bring himself to say it either. He hangs up, and stares at the green liquid inside his cup. He can't say it. He can't say those words, because that'd make them all the more real, and all the more painful.

I miss you. I want to see you, Ilbon/Kankoku.

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**This is so short... -_- And not all that great. But... it's passable?**

**2 tests are done! And I hope to be updating better again- its also partly you guys's fault for having such good fanfiction/doujinshi stuff, you know!**

**To my reviewers who have been waiting too long for this:**

**Kankoku-ssi: My mom goes to pick my sister up every few days, so I sneak it in then, and also pretend to be working. ^_^UUU Well, it works, okay? It was a bit of a mood whiplash, but I'm glad you liked! (Again, you reviewed within the hour- thank you!)**

**Just Me: That's one of the things about this pairing- it can be happy and fluffy 'cause of Korea's tendencies to be like that, but there's always those sad moments. What I love about kimchibowl is that it's next to impossible. but that element of- of forgiveness between them, that element of second chances, of acceptance, that says I can and will forgive you, just take my hand. It's what I'd like for those countries, and that element is what's going to bring world peace. I'm going to stop giving speeches now, and have a nice day too! (Polish history was mentioned once in Hetalia, so of course I'd be interested.)**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Permanent, I believe, so that's why I've gotten better at deception like most people, OTL. They're worried about the M-section, which personally, I am a little afraid of as well. Well, the happiness *is* nice, but yes- this is the main thing- they have a bit of bad history between them. I know, right? I couldn't make him outright vulnerable- that just isn't Japan. (Korea's the only fairly easy character to write, and I can't even manage that half the time, OTL) England is. That's interesting. I wonder if its like that in any other countries. ?_?**

**kiku-dii: Let's commiserate as fellow victims of our mothers. It's fine. Sorry for the confusion- it's the drama that's been played back. There's an idol/singer that actually looks a bit like Korea- I believe his name is Taecyeon from 2pm. Look up realistic korea hetalia on google, and a deviantart thing should pop up. The picture's modeled after that guy.**

**IronfistTina: Thank you very much! ^_^ I am very flattered- my writing isn't all that good. See? Finally an update! (...Oh geez, my YumePati readers are going to be very displeased with me...)**

**Artemis1000: WELCOME, NEW REVIEWER! ^_^ Thank you, and I'm glad you like it so much.**

**Ah, thank you to all who favorited/alerted the story! , annoying, doesn't keep a list of who alerted/favorited it so I can't thank you all personally, so please review if you can, just so I can see who you are! It can just be like 1 letter, even!**


	10. Man's Best Friend!

**Day 10- Man's Best Friend**

**Whoot! Over 40 reviews! *faints* *revives* Okay, I think I actually made Korea more himself than he's been lately in this chapter, so away we go! WHY, ? WHY DO YOU DELETE MY LINEBREAKS AND ITALICS? Ah, by the way, I'm excited for the next chapter! (I wrote it before this one, OTL. And it's probably a lot better. Becuase I put way more work into it. I was completely lost on this prompt and randomly scribbled something down.)**

_xixixixixiMan'sixiBestixiFriend!ixixixixix_  
>Pochi reminded Japan of Korea. He mused on this as he petted his fluffy dog. Said dog barked cheerfully and wagged its tail. Oddly, Korea had a cat, not a dog. However, needless to say, the cat, like owner, was a very strange being.<br>"Ilbon? Ilbon, are you here?" A voice interrupted, and Korea comes around with a smile, pet carrier in one hand, a light carry-on in the other.  
>Japan peers at it with a smile. "Is that Mulgogi?" He asks with some amusement. Korea had named his cat 'fish'. "Yes, that's him. You haven't met him yet, right?" The taller man beams.<br>When Japan had first been told about this, he had told Korea that the cat was land-meat, not water-meat, as a play on the animal's name. Now, he bends down to try and look inside it.  
>Noticing, Yong-Soo removes the cat from the carrier. Mulgogi stays still, apparently resigned to his human's odd tendencies as the man spins him around.<br>"Kankoku-san... I... don't think he likes that..." Japan says awkwardly, watching the cat's expression grow ever-so-slightly uncomfortable. The gray and white animal staggers, dizzy, when Korea put him down.  
>"Huh? Oh... Sorry, Mulgogi." He apologizes to the cat, petting it lightly. Japan is amazed that it hadn't bit Yong-Soo yet. Yong-Soo looks up to beam at Japan. "Ilbon, you're smart!" He exclaims, picking the cat up.<br>"Do you want to hold him?" He questions, holding it out to him. A bit unsure, Kiku nods and holds out his arms nervously. "Don't worry- he's the gentlest cat ever." Korea assures him, settling the cat into Japan's hands.  
>After that, he leaves them together to play with Pochi, who doesn't mind when Korea play-wrestles with him. A small smile lifts a corner of Japan's mouth as he watches the two together. Mulgogi peers at them as well with a blank expression, though he purrs, just a little.<br>_A dog, huh_? He thinks, petting the cat. _Dogs are loyal, kind, sweet... they can be silly or serious, but they won't leave your side. __  
><em>_And dogs... their most prominent trait... is that when they love you..._  
>Both Korea and Pochi look up, glowing with happiness, and looking at Japan and Mulgogi with a type of fondness.<br>_When they love you, they love you unconditionally._  
>It was not a bad thing, he supposed, though both dog and human had no concept of personal space. Because he had never felt so loved.<p>

_xixixixixiMan'sixiBestixiFriend!ixixixixix_  
><strong>Meh, call it a drabble, 'cause that's what it is. <strong>


	11. Somebody's Hero

**Day 11- Somebody's Hero!**

**No more exams for another 2 months! And back to better updates, I hope! I actually kind of like this chapter, so roll chapter!**

_xixixixixiSomebody'sixiHero!ixixixixix_

Japan spasms, choking suddenly, sitting up in bed. He can't breathe, his chest- it feels tight. He feels phantom water around him, water that isn't there is drowning him, is killing him. He gasps and he thrashes in throes of pain, his hands scrabble uselessly at his chest and leave angry red marks across the pale skin. His head pounds, and all his limbs hurt. He's in torture, utter torture, and the worst thing about it is that _he's helpless._  
>He hates feeling helpless- it's his own personal torture, the worst thing in the world for him to feel. He's Japan, he's a <em>country, <em>he rarely can't do anything to assuage a situation. But now? But here? He couldn't do _anything_, not a single God damned thing right now. He tries to gasp, but it doesn't work, and again he chokes, writhing in pain as he can feel his people die. 'No. No, no. Not them. Don't take them from me. Not now.' He can't say the words, but he mouths them, praying to any and every deity he knows to just please save them, to save his people.

He wonders if this is how it feels to die, as the pain fades away, as everything fades. He wonders how humans manage to do everything so much in their short, tiny lives. He thinks a lot of things as he fades, about how maybe he should have been more ardent in fixing relations with Korea and China, and how much he'd miss both, and his Western friends. And then he blacks out as he hears someone call out his name.

_xixixixixiSomebody'sixiHero!ixixixixix_

Yong-Soo was worried, devastatingly so. He had heard about the tsunami in Japan, had lost his temper with his secretary, his boss, the airport manager, with every single person that tried to get in his way. He was furious even as he steered the plane into the watery ruins of Japan's proud home. He lands the plane as quickly as he can, jumping out of it, and calling over and over again, "Kiku! Ilbon!" Usually, he would be more formal, more guarded, but this is an emergency, and so he calls out names with an achingly casual quality.

It occurs to him that Kiku may have passed out- and so he searches through Kiku's home, bursting through doors and towards what he knows to be Japan's main room. The man is there, limp, angry red marks all over his chest, unbreathing, a pained expression as he tries to breathe, even unconsciously.  
>"...Ilbon..." He says, picking up the smaller man and rushing off outside where he knows all manner of countries will sometime be arriving. He writes a quick note, an explanation that he was taking Japan to a doctor, and runs back into the plane. It's the fastest one in all of Korea, and he hopes it'll be fast enough.<p>

_xixixixixiSomebody'sixiHero!ixixixixix_

When Japan comes to, it's to a white hospital room, and to see Korea asleep on the chair next to him. He's not the only one. China and Russia lean against the far wall, America and England, Canada and France along another, Hong Kong and Taiwan on the small sofa. There's a lot of other nations in the room, too, such as the Nordics, several of the wealthier Africans, most of Europe and the Americas, and he feels a little happy at the show of support that the world was showing him. But...  
>It could have been a hallucination, a trick his mind came up with to keep him determined to stay alive, but he could have sworn that it was Korea's voice that had called his human name before he passed out.<br>He places a hand on the older nations shoulder, hesitantly. He comes awake with a start, and he smiles. A breathtaking, relieved, just utterly glad smile crosses his face, and he hugs Japan to him as gently as he could. Japan is shocked by this show of affection.  
>"ILBON's AWAKE!" He shouts, and Kiku cringes as every nation in the room comes awake and crowds him at once.<br>"Kankoku-san-" He starts, and everyone falls silent. "Did you- I..." Korea seems to understand, and stops spinning in circles with Italy. He looks away, a little embarrassed. "I didn't do much. I just was closest, so I arrived first." He mumbles, blushing a little.  
>"He's lying aru." China speaks up. "He lost his temper and terrorized everyone that got in his way, chartered the fastest Korean plane, and flew to Japan as soon as he could. He came and found you, and this is the best hospital in his country."<br>There's a huge hubbub then, and the Bad Friend Trio, the Awesome Trio, and several others tease Korea mercilessly at his show of effort, while other nations smother Japan with attention and medical care.

_xixixixixiSomebody'sixiHero!ixixixixix_

Korea comes to Japan after things quiet down, and they've convinced the other nations to go find hotels. "Uh... the nurses said you shouldn't be out of bed... but the Land of the Rising Sun shouldn't miss a sunrise, right?" He smiles, and offers Japan his hand. It evokes memories, and Japan takes it as they manage their way out to the veranda. The sun is huge and red-orange-yellow, and it's the most beautiful thing that Japan has ever seen, and he's just so glad to be alive.  
>Korea looks over at Japan as he thinks: 'I used to be the one that strode boldly ahead of him, looking back at him and offering him my hand. I used to be the one that would take his arm and pull it up, smiling with a 'C'mon, Ilbon, you're so slow!' But since then, but now... Japan has charged ahead of me, and I can't do anything but run with all my might just to keep that white-clad back in sight. I hate it, but I'll keep watching his back for just a little while longer, until the day that I can grow wings and fly along with him.<br>Just for a little while longer, I'll help him out from the backstage scenes, and just for a little bit longer, I will wait.' He smiles to himself a little as he thinks again: 'Just a little longer.'  
>Japan is thinking somewhat along the same lines. <em>Korea had always been the one who marched ahead of me. He used to stride into the world with boldness, with bravery, with a smile. He used to be the one to turn around every few steps and offer me a hand when things got harder. He used to be the one to take my arm and pull me up, laughing and telling me: 'C'mon, Ilbon, you're so slow!' But then occupation happened, and a whole host of other things... and I shot past him. I can't seem to look back, and I feel so utterly selfish for being unable to. But often, I feel his hand on my shoulder, often, I feel a shove forward when I must slow, and I feel as if I've grown wings. And when I fell, Korea came down to me and picked me back up again. He seemed to have wings, like an angel, but they weren't all the way there. Just for a little while longer, I'll wait. Just for a little bit longer, I'll keep my eyes forward until his wings finish growing, and he will come teach me how to fly. <em> He looks at the sunrise, and at the person next to him. _Just until he comes to me, and teaches me to fly._

_xixixixixiSomebody'sixiHero!ixixixixix_

**It's a bit wordy near the end, OTL. But I don't think it turned out too badly, right? **

**To my reviewers!**

**TheColourOfStarlight: Thank you for reviewing! I do my best, so thank you and keep an eye out for more! (Addiction? I'm flattered.)**

**Kankoku-ssi: Right on schedule as usual. Annyong! All of them are oveeer, and I'm so happy! =D My writing teacher has been hounding at us to 'show, not tell', so I took the sentence 'I miss you', and I tried to show it through little gestures. **

**kiku-dii: Correction. TWO (doubtful) gifts from Fan-land. Thanks! I wasn't sure if that was too weird or no, right? Yes I like waffles. Do you like pancakes?**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: It's not so bad, since I ignore it. I'll just wait 'til I get to college, I suppose, to be able to do it openly. It is a bit scary, isn't it? Maybe. But maybe is a good word. It isn't realistic, but the thought of forgiveness is nice, and since when have we humans been realistic? It is a bit lonely… ;_; But I thought it'd be a nice touch because most things like this end with them saying 'I miss you', and I always thought 'That makes it more real, more true. Why would they do that?' Yes, I like barley tea too much, and I don't really like green tea. So tea bled into this somehow, but I think it's nice, isn't it? And yes, tea solves everything! **

**Artemis1000: Thank you! ^_^**

**Just Me: No, it's fine, I like virtual hugs. ^_^ …I just feel uncomfortable with real ones… *has personal space issues* Unspoken was kind of the point of it- I thought I'd like to give it a try. Instead of 'Korea missed Japan. Japan missed Korea. The end.', I tried to show it throughout the story. Most history does, doesn't it? ^_^UUU You too, have a nice day!**

**Night 13: Yes, thank you for reviewing! I try to make him as he seems to me.**


	12. Nightmares

**Day-12 Nightmares**

**I finally got my computer back, and thus I bring you the 12th chapter!**

_xixixixixiNightmares!ixixixixix_

Neither of them were strangers to the dark realm of nightmares. Both of them had traversed in its deep forests and had seen too many things in its black pools.

Korea 's dreams, bad or good, had always been vivid. When he had bad dreams, his mind subconsciously pinned down any and every little detail in a gruesome accuracy. For when nightmares troubled him, they carried war in their depths. Korea was a nation with a bloody history- he seemed to always be fighting those people he loved. His attitude and daily conduct didn't betray him, but they had left invisible marks.

He dreamed of battle, of the cruel-yet-dulled wink of cool steel spattered with the life-blood of men. Of buildings scorched black by all-consuming fire, of the devastation brought by nuclear bombing, of the scent of a stale dead body- sharp with a bitter tang. Dreams of the anguish every nation felt when their people were taken from them, the burning within him, torturously slow.

Japan dreamed of war, too, but other things, too. The tsunami, occupation, memories of World War II stalked his nightmares, weaving their colours into the dark fabric of them. He dreamed of mangled bodies, torn apart, glassy still-open eyes. Of swirling, death-muddied water grasping at him, of drowning. Of dark and defiant gazes, brown eyes piercing him with an accusatory stare, a wide slash laying open a brother's back. He dreamed of brutal violence against the unarmed, and of a girl with a thousand paper cranes, dead because of nuclear weapons.

Japan was a country with a long, also bloody past, and he, too, had fought those he loved. He had done things he was not proud of, ashamed of. But no measure of repenting and regretting would undo those actions, and so he lived on with his darker actions weighing down his heart and conscience.

They dealt with them together, always. No matter if they were in one of their rare squabbles, or if one were busy, the other would always drop everything in order to comfort the other.

When Korea was afflicted by nightmares, Japan would sit up with him, acting as a make-shift teddy-bear of sorts. He'd draw out slightly from his reclusive shell, and they'd speak lightly over a snack and a late-night video game. Kiku would handle the situation with a firm, gentle hand, and a good dose of cheer to drive the bad dreams away.

When it was Japan's turn to be victim to the claws of nightmates, Korea would hold him- Japan was reassured by the warmth that surrounded him, and they'd share a quiet companionship. They'd huddle in warmth, and sometimes one of them would sing. Not modern, happy songs... but those calm, soothing melodies, ancient and rich with sound. Abandoning his own beloved language with only the slightest pang of guilt, Yong-Soo would speak Japanese to Kiku, modern words in a phrasing nonexistent in times of occupation.

If they were apart and had nightmares, they'd communicate via video-chat or phone, or the other would fly over as soon as possible.

They knew nightmares, and never wanted the other to suffer throughout a night alone, battling them.

Nightmares were sly, and so both kept up a watch for the other. They guarded the other more than they guarded themselves.

Nightmares. They were manifestations of darkness, spawned from the subconscious, so both tried to keep such dark things off of the other's mind. They depended on each other, shielded and comforted one another, safe in the assurance that when they woke, the other would always be there.

_xixixixixiNightmares!ixixixixix_

**And yet another one obscured in abstractia! =P**

**50 reviews. Fifty. O_O You people are amazing to have stuck around this long.**

**Kankoku-ssi: Glad you liked, and... 5 minutes. Incredible. Thank you very much for reviewing, and reviewing twice! ^_^ Korea is a sweetheart, and really, Japan deserves a little spoiling, y'know?**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: And Kiku is a bit lonely, isn't he? I did the whole Korea=dog so Japan has one and Japan seems like a cat so I made Korea get one. Honestly, a Japan-like cat would be one of the only ones not to kill Korea for treating it like that, right? He would. *nods* It is. That's a valid point- but we also strive to achieve the impossible and sometimes succeed. Thank you! It hit me in the middle of English class- the idea of about wings and flying. I predeveloped their speeches beforehand, and wrote in the story around them. They really are.**

**kiku-dii: You did! Awesome! Good thing Korea has a nice, won't-bite-you cat. Or I think it would have mauled him, otherwise, OTL. Ehehehe... That happens to me too much. -_- Well, hope you liked, and thanks for reviewing! (What's wrong with syrup?)**

**Night13: True, true. That's what I heard, and also, Korea is technically the closest country geographically to Japan, and so it makes sense, doesn't it?**

**Just Me: As long as I get the feedback, it's fine! ^_^ ...My sister has a hamster...? I'm more of a no-pet-no-problems people- animals confuse me. I tried very very hard to come out with a good one, so yay! ^_^ I hate assigned books- well, a lot of them. -_- People hug me too much. _ I keep my personal space issues to myself, though- I'm a big stickler for politeness to acquaintances. I'll look up some of it sometime. No, thank *you*. Cookies! You too!**


	13. Switching Lives

**Day-13 Switching Lives with Someone**

**Again, it is the I-finished-the-next-chapter-before-this-one situation! ^_^UUU Anyways, it's more than one update, so... Start chapter!**

__

It was Japan who had brought it up, as they waited for the train to come into the station. He tugs lightly on Korea's shirt to get his attention before asking his question.

"Kankoku-san, if you could trade lives with someone, anyone, who would you switch with?" He asks, looking subtly for the taller man's reaction to the query from his periphery.

Yong-Soo thinks a minute, then grins at Japan. "The person driving or controlling the train, da ze. So it would hurry up and get here already." He says playfully, shoving the plastic card that served as the subway ticket inside his jacket pocket.

Japan smiles a little at that, and inclines his head in the other's direction. "An interesting choice." He says, amused by the taller's response.

"And you, Ilbon?" Korea says, cocking his head to the left as he looks to the Japanese nation for an answer. "Who would you trade lives with?"

Japan is silent for a moment, considering his choices. "I? I... would trade..." He looks up at Korea. "I'd trade with you, Kankoku-san." He says, looking away at the last moment, embarrassed.

Yong-Soo is surprised and flattered, but recovers quickly enough to tease the smaller man. "So you could date yourself? Ilbon, I didn't think you were so vain."

Japan shakes his head a little, completely serious. "Your life... Well, no. All people, our lives are all governed by our personalities. And yet our personalities are formed as a result of our lives, how we lead them, and our past. I... I'd..." He trails off, finishing the notion in his thoughts. Would you believe me? If I said that I wanted to be more like you? I'd like to be as honest as you are.

Yong-Soo seems to understand, and he puts a hand on Japan's head, ruffling the neat black hair with a boyish smile.

"That's very deep. As expected of Ilbon." He looks up at the sky, and sighs happily. "Then I'll be serious too, okay?"

He runs a hand through his hair as Japan gives him his undivided attention. "I... would not trade anyone's life for my own. No ones. I like my life. And though I could do without my past, it's part of me, South Korea, Im Yong-Soo. I could never give it up, not after all my nation does for me, not after all the faith and love they've poured into me. I could never give up the Korean spirit- the one that runs through every one of my people's veins. I am the luckiest nation in the world because of that. Because my nation loves Korea, their land, and their ideal. They're proud of me, of us, and that I couldn't ever trade off."

He breaks off suddenly, and smiles brightly. "I'm done with the speech now. But that isn't all of why I wouldn't ever trade." He takes Japan's hand, squeezes it quickly,and lets go.

"I don't think I could give this up. I don't ever want to not love you, Ilbon." He closes his eyes, then. "Not ever."

__

…**=P Another drabble-y one. The next chapter is more serious and in the abstract, so I wanted to get a reality-grounded piece of fluff out, first.**


	14. Kidnapped!

**Day-14 Kidnapped!**

**I wrote this a little differently than the other chapters- the italics are the story, and the normal is what's happening in reality. It's a little short, but I worked hard on the idea, so please be kind!**

_xixixixixiKidnappedixixixixix_

_There once was a little bird, a blue-feathered little bird. He flittered and fluttered to and fro and in the cerulean colored sang beautifully, the most beautiful song in the woods, and he was a very clever little bird. He loved a little red bird, and they lived togther, very happy._

_But one day, he was out fluttering and singing his pretty melodies when evil people heard his singing and caught him._

His hand falters as he traces the characters on the grimy surface, and he blinks rapidly. South Korea leans his head against the dirty stone wall, arm shaking as he puts down the next words.

_He was kidnapped, and could sing no more._

He closed his eyes, shifting his position in a rustle of cloth. He sighed, all his usual vibrant energy gone.

_Because he was so sad, he could not think of any ways to escape for a long time. Because he was so sad, he could not even sing, which he could do since he was born. His song did not want to emerge in this sad, dirty place. _

_He couldn't do anything because his heart was so sad. He missed his family. He missed the wide, open sky. But most of all..._

He swallows hard as he forces his breathing to remain normal. His breath caught, and he coughed.

_He missed the red bird._

_**xixixixixiKidnappedixixixixix**_

_There was once a little bird, a red-colored little bird. He was a quiet, and intelligent bird, the wisest animal in the woods. He was gentle, oh-so-gentle. He loved a little blue bird, and they lived together, very happy._

_But one day, when the little red bird waited, the blue bird didn't come home. He went out, and the flowers told him that the blue bird had been captured for his beautiful song._

_The red bird was sad, very very sad. He cried a river, and it created a long stream in the woods where they had lived._

Kiku's mouth tightened as he typed frantically into his laptop. He had cried at first for sadness, then refused to shed another tear. Tears would not help Korea.

_But then, the red bird was angry, oh-so-very angry, and flames paled to the heat of his fury._

His dark eyes are as hard as stone, and glint with a steel-like determination. Deep, true fury stirs his insides and simmers quietly under his skin. He adjusts the headpiece he's wearing, the headphone and microphone combination. The expression on his face is coolly detached.

_The little red bird called everyone in the woods to search for him, and everyone did._

Every able nation in the world was searching for South Korea in a show of world cooperation. Kiku was doing the most. His hands clench in his lap when his eyes light up like blue-black flames. A savage, vicious half-smile crosses his face, uncharacteristic but oddly fitting, an urge to rip, tear, and kill whomever had dared to kidnap something he loved clawing at his stomach. "Found them." He says it quietly, but his voice carries a sinister tone.

_**xixixixiKidnappedixixixixix**_

_Day by day, the captors of the little blue bird asked him why he was not afraid, why he did not cry._

"Im. Obviously they don't care for you much if they stall in paying the ransom. Why don't you cry, brokenhearted? Why don't you cower in despair?"

He looks up, his brown eyes cold. "Because I am not afraid. I won't cry, da ze-"

_"-because it'd make the red bird very sad."_

_The blue bird said. And I have faith-"_

"Faith that I- Kiku and Yao-hyung and everyone will find me." He says it confidently, but a worry gnaws on the inside of his stomach.

_**xixixixiKidnappedixixixixix**_

_One day, the blue bird was struck with a sudden idea. He found out how he could run away._

Weak from starvation and maltreatment, Korea realized that he could bend the bars, if need be. He might be able to. Head muddied, he slumps down, eyes closed.

_But dizzy and a little crazy, the bird doesn't run away._

_Insecure in his captive craziness, he wonders if anyone will be glad he escaped. So he settles back into his cage, held by his own insecurities, cold and alone. _

_Would anyone be glad? Were they... better off without him? He wonders, and then he finally cries._

For the first time in decades, South Korea sheds tears.

_**xixixixiKidnappedixixixixix**_

**Well. I'm fighting against my instinct to write a happy ending, OTL. -_-UUU To the reviews!**

**Just Me: Thank you for saying that! ^_^ Ah- me neither. I rarely have actual dreams. I sat down and brainstormed different ideas for that chapter. I'm not so great in the mornings, either, don't feel bad. Yes, I know, right? It's way too depressing to lose it. You too- have a nice day! ^_^ (No, it's fine.)**

**Night13: *shudders* And think of all those wars. That must be terrible. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Yes, that's certainly true- like the whole walls quote. Korea cares enough to break them down, Ilbon! You amaze me, Mulgogi, I pay tribute to your patience. So that's why they suddenly break off into monologues, OTL. That one, I brainstormed different ideas- I really wanted to center in on one theme that time. I edited the wording several times- blood-spattered weapons went to the cruel-yet-dulled wink of etc. etc. They don't. Ah yes, the subtle references. The biggest, main prompt is kimchibowl after all- I couldn't forget that! Thank you for reviewing!**

**Kankoku-ssi: Let's see, then! ^_^ Really? Thank you! That /is/ my job, after all- to make my readers love the pairing as much as I do. Thank you- yes, I didn't really want to go into that... X_X I'm just not even going to go there.**

**kiku-dii: It is rather cute, isn't it? (Really? I prefer syrup. The real kind, that is.) Thank you for reviewing!**

**Artemis1000: That's right- I'm glad you think so. Thank you for reviewing!**


	15. Three Wishes and Childhood Memories

**Day-15 and 16 Three Wishes and Childhood Memories**

**I cheated a little on this one, because yesterday, I went hiking and walked around a tremendous mall, and today I skated for 2 hours. I just want to read fanfiction and do nothing, but I hauled my lazy self to the computer to type this.**

**Ah, it's an AU.**

It was a game that they often played. It was the three-wishes game, and it could be lighthearted or serious by turn. In this game, they'd both make three wishes in turns. They'd ply three-wish strings against each other until one hesitated, which ended the game in the other's victory.

Their matches went on for hours at a time, without reusing any of the wishes they'd that game- it'd result in loss. But they were creative people, and caught up to the many things of the modern day.

Most times, they would end in a draw, voices sore beyond use, writing hands cramped from scribbling down wishes and tossing them at each other. They'd both smile in terms of the truce, agreeing on it through their eyes. Other times, they'd draw when they tired of the game.

It's a placid day, with fat clouds puffing their way contentedly across the expanse of the sky. There's a slight breeze that ruffles the group's hair. They're out on a picnic with a few others- a meadow near a slow-moving river. Mei, Xiang, Arthur, Alfred, Francis and Matthew were the people that had been able to make it to the gathering.

They had asked others- Ludwig and Feliciano had a double-date planned with Lovino and Antonio. Yong-Soo had asked Elizabeta and Roderich- they had said maybe, that they may come along later. He could have sworn that the Hungarian had had a strange glint in her eyes, but he brushes that off as part of his imagination.

The topic of their three-wishes game had come up over lunch, after a game of football/soccer. Mei had asked the blond students if they'd ever heard of it, and Xiang had rolled his eyes and murmured "Infamous," under his breath.

They hadn't, and Alfred wonders what, exactly, this three-wish game was. Yong-Soo set down his sandwich and grinned at Kiku.

"We've been playing it a long time, Kiku and I. Ever since we were both little brat-kins. It's a game where we both make three wishes at a time, until one of us runs out of them. It's the thing that brought us together, did you know?"

_"Yao! Hey, Yao!" Yong-Soo clambered after the Chinese boy, both running down the grasses of the field. "You can't catch me, aru!" The older boy cried out, triumphant, as he sped ahead. _

_As they ran, the Korean 4-year-old crashed into another little boy who had crouched down in the long grasses. "Ow... Oh, hey, are you okay? Sorry for bumping into you." He chattered in Korean. The younger boy blinked, confused, having understood only half the words. Yong-Soo, thwarted, tries again in slow, stumbling Chinese, and the younger boy seems to comprehend better this time._

_As a last-straw attempt, he laborously repeats the two sentences in clumsy Japanese. The boy on the ground nods in full understanding, and Yong-Soo grins brightly. Yao doubles back to see why his friend isn't chasing after him- and smiles when he sees a new friend._

_Kiku, as he told them his name was in timid Chinese, (a common-ground language) was fast, and the other two Asian boys were hard-put to run out of his reach. Yao, soon after that, had to leave, and so they settled on the ground in an exhausted silence._

_"Kiku, you're all sweaty." Yong-Soo giggles breathlessly as he fishes around in his pockets. The Japanese boy, smirking a little bit, points out that the other was, too. The Korean pounces on him, rubbing at him with a handkerchief. _

_They wrestle until Kiku suggests that he teach Yong-Soo a new game, who springs up, attentive. "It's called a three-wishes game, Yong-Soo-san." Kiku says. "It's a game where we both make three wishes until we run out of them."_

"And that's how we met. It soon became _our _game, of sorts- we kept forgetting to teach Yao. Then Mei and Xiang moved into the neighborhood. We asked them, but they weren't too interested in it." Yong-Soo says, drinking from a cup of barley tea.

Arthur cocks his head to the side. "And then...?" He asks, interest piqued, then immediately denying any interest in the topic.

Kiku takes over, then. "We were... fourteen, I think. It was a year ago, so.. yes. That was when Heracles-san and I first began going out."

Yong-Soo looks away at that, focusing on the food in front of him, a carefully normal expression on his face. The more perceptive people of the group notice, and Japan hurries on with the tale.

_"Kiku, let's go home!" Yong-Soo called from the back of the room, where he was waiting. Sometimes they walked with Yao, Mei, and/or Xiang, but the others had clubs today. _

_Kiku walked over. "Ano... Heracles-san wanted to talk to me today- you can go ahead, if that is convenient." He says to his best friend, picking up his things. "No, it's fine. I'll wait outside, then. I lost Three Wishes to you last time- I call a rematch, and we can play on our way home."_

_The Korean waves once more, then ducks out of the door, game device in his hands. Kiku turns to the Greek boy, then, and Heracles confesses._

_He's shocked- he feels as if he's watching this from far away. But not wanting to hurt the other boy's feelings, he agrees to go out with him- but not making any promises of his own feelings._

_Yong-Soo is waiting for him when he steps outside, and his strange mood seems to show. "Kiku? You okay?" He asks, poking at the shorter's cheek. Kiku nods slowly- Yong-Soo hated it when he lied to him. "I... am not bad, Yong-Soo-san. Merely..." "Out of it." The other finishes._

_Kiku's lips tilt up slightly. "I... am going out with Heracles-san." He says it slowly, peering carefully at the other's open face as he says it. He sees shock fly across it before it closes to him. "Seriously?" Yong-Soo asks him, an eager look now sparkling in his eyes. But the Korean is a marvelous actor, so Kiku isn't sure whether the emotion is real as he forges on._

_"I'm gonna plan your weddiiing~!" Yong-Soo sings, dancing around Kiku, before snapping alert. "I wish to plan your wedding, coordinate everything, and to do it without help!" He says, starting the match._

Yong-Soo smiles a little wistfully- Francis spits out a string of French, apparently expressing his deepest sympathies. Matthew pats his knee a little.

Alfred whistles, low and admiring. "I'm impressed, Yong-Soo." Arthur is silent, deep in thought. Mei and Xiang know this story, and like Yong-Soo, look a bit sad.

"Kiku had it worse, though. Sometimes I slipped, and snapped at him, or was broody. He spent months thinking I was angry with him, and he couldn't live with himself." The Korean says easily, leaning back. "I was- am, an insufferable brat- and a bit selfish to boot."

"Parts of it, some of you witnessed, am I right?" Mei asks, looking around the circle. Alfred sits up, and starts to talk.

_Alfred blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then blinked again. It was lunchtime, and Yong-Soo wasn't sitting with Kiku- he was seated at the empty spot of the American's usual table, and he was brooding. Alfred slides into the seat next to the Korean, shooting a quizzical glance at his twin. Yong-Soo _always _sat with Kiku and the other Asians. Yong-Soo _never _brooded._

_"Uh... Yong-Soo? Ya in there, dude?" He asks, poking the boy in the head. Yong-Soo looks up, and several emotions flash lightning-quick across his face before he smiles. "Yes. What is it, Al?" He asks, pelting other with bits of bread. "...You're not sitting with Kiku." "..." Yong-Soo looks away. "Uh... Kiku and Heracles are going out- I wanted to give them some space." Alfred jerks back in shock. "Really, dude?" Across the table, Arthur raises an impressive eyebrow. "And you aren't sad about it?" Yong-Soo smiles. "Sad? Why would I be sad? I'm happy for Kiku."_

"-I witnessed brooding Yong-Soo- something I thought I'd never see." Alfred finishes, stretching out on the grass. He turns to put an arm around Arthur. "Arthur saw it from Kiku's side, right?"

The English teen nods. "Ah, well... it...

_"Ah, is that so?" Arthur Kirkland says, glancing over to where Yong-Soo was with the rest of the soccer/football club. Kiku is in front of him, explaining how the Korean had avoided him, once snapped at him, seemed to be much less cheerful._

_"Did you fight recently? Or..." Arthur trails off, looking at the Japanese boy, who shakes his head. "No, Kirkland-san. He started acting strangely a bit after Heracles-san and I began... our relationship." "..." Only one conclusion comes to mind, and the English student turns his back towards his friend._

_"...Have you considered the possibility that he's...jealous?" He asks this delicately, and Kiku shakes his head vehemently. "There is no such possibility, Kirkland-san. Yong-Soo-san is too open- I do not think he could have hidden it from me." But even as he says this, he can't help but remember the Korean's acting skill._

_"Well... Yong-Soo is a rather skilled actor, you could say... but I think he needs a little space, is all. Teenagers tend to be quite moody." Arthur remarks, and sits down._

"-And that's all." He finishes, putting down his cup of black tea. They all silently turn to the next member in the group, Xiang. The Chinese boy blinks slowly, and in a quiet, low voice, he begins his part of the story.

_"Xiang! Hey, Xiang, wait up!" Yong-Soo exclaims, running up to the other boy. Xiang raises an eyebrow, as if asking a question. "Kiku. Why aren't you bothering him instead?" He says it out loud, and Yong-Soo's face turns into one impossible to read. "He was talking to Heracles. I decided to walk with you and Mei-Mei... it's been a while." Mei, on Xiang's other side, smiles at Yong-Soo, welcoming him._

_The three walk back together, and while usually the Korean was full of stories of misadventures and games with him and Kiku, today he skirted the topic of his best friend, prefering to listen and comment on what the other two had to say._

_Xiang and Mei both glance back in turns, discreetly. Kiku is watching them, a sad tint in his expression as he sees them go. The Taiwanese and Chinese teens exchange glances. _

_"Yong-Soo, did you fight with Kiku?" Mei asks, adjusting her hairclip. The Korean laughs easily. "No, not at all." He says, and he's safe in the knowledge that he's telling the truth- he did not, in fact, fight with the other boy._

_Again, the other two exchange looks, a flurry of silent communication, before deciding not to press Yong-Soo further on it. "Alright then- Is kimchi really all that good?" Mei directs the conversation onto safer ground, and like this they walk home._

Xiang had stopped talking in the middle on his part, and Mei had taken over the memory for him. There's a brief silence, and Kiku breaks it, cheeks pink. "...I...do not think you percieved it accurately." He says, and the tension breaks as everyone begins to laugh.

Francis and Matthew are the last to tell their story, and both blonds smile before they begin. Francis starts. "Ah, it was in ze springtime, our story..."

_"Kiku... why was Yong-Soo sitting with us today? Not that I mind, eh, but he's-" "Usually super-glued to you, mon cher.(My dear)" Francis smoothly cuts into Matthew's sentence, as they look at the cornered Asian. _

_"I have no knowledge of his thoughts, Bonnefoy-san- He confuses me as much as he does you." Kiku says quietly with a tiny, wry, smile. "I cannot help you as I do not understand him most of the time myself."_

_"You understand him more than we do, though, eh?" Matthew says this quietly, but the query carries. Kiku leans back, as if to escape it, before answering._

_"He has been acting strangely for months, Williams-san. I don't understand it- and it... it is upsetting!" He blurts the last part out as if it will flee if he doesn't say it. "He is my closest friend, and I don't like seeing him like this."_

_He swallows. "I...Forgive my open-ness, and I know I'm being selfish. He does come to see me frequently, and I know he's a busy person, but-" Francis smiles a little. "But he always had made room to see you before. You think he's angry with you, mon ami. (my friend)"_

_Kiku hangs his head. "...Yes." He murmurs, suddenly drained. Matthew looks at him, and speaks again. "But, Kiku... I'm sure that everything will be fine...You still have your game, right? He still plays it with you...right?"_

"-And zere we are." Francis finishes with a flourish. "We all know what happens not a week later." Yong-Soo adds, a little flustered. "So-"

"No." The comment is from Alfred, as blunt as ever. "We don't, dude. We know what happened as in, we know you two got together after Heracles and Kiku broke up... But beyond that, that's gray area."

"..." Kiku and Yong-Soo shrug after a pause. Yong-Soo is the one to speak after that. "Well-"

_It was a party that the self-proclaimed Bad Touch Trio had thrown. Heracles and Kiku sit in the yard, talking quietly. Neither smile until the end of the conversation when both smile and shake hands. Their conversation was simple- neither of them wanted to carry on the relationship, and both had agreed to end it. _

_Kiku was glad, but a little lost. He wanders back in, then out the back door of the Bonnefoy home. He finds Yong-Soo out there, humming quietly as he watched the fountain. Unbeknownst to many, and surprisingly, Yong-Soo was a photographer as well as an actor._

_"I wish that I could be honest. I wish that I could understand. I wish that you would speak to me." It's the easiest way to start the conversation, and the least awkward. The Korean stiffens a little, then turns around. "I wish that I could speak to you." He steps forward, and he knows what he's doing is dangerous, he knows that this could lead to a place of no return... and he knows that he could ruin this friendship right now if he doesn't run away. _

_But he can't bring himself to, and his traitorous body moves him so he's inches away from the boy he loves. There's tears in his eyes as he says the next two sentences. "I wish that you were mine." He leans down, and Kiku tilts his head up. "I wish that I could kiss you with a free conscience."_

_It's their first kiss, then, but it's bitter as it is sweet, perfectly chaste, and they both taste salt. It isn't the stuff of fairytales, but it's enough for both of them. Yong-Soo suddenly jerks back as he realizes what he has just done._

_"I wish that you'd do that again." Kiku starts, quiet, simple, and honest. "That you'd believe me when I tell you Heracles-san and I broke up. I wish that you were mine as well."_

**...Okay, I have no excuses. I don't really like this chapter- why are all of them so out of character? Especially Kiku. Why can't I write you, Japan? Why are you so difficult to write? And all of you Westerners? Why can I only seem to write Korea?**

***heaves self out of self pity corner* Well, review time! ^_^ **

**Kankoku-san: 2 minutes. That's how soon you reviewed 'Switching Lives'. I'm amazed, seon-saeng-nim. *bows* I'm glad you liked it! ^^ I tried to make 'Kidnapped' emotional, so I'm glad you felt that way. And to think 'Switching Lives' was supposed to be light.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Thank you! ^_^UUU So Korea's joke didn't fall completely down. It is, isn't it? I debated having them say the same thing out loud, but decided against it- it's better if its different, and it's easier for the lazy me. Ah... He cried. He cried a lot when they found him, and laughed at the same time.**

**Just Me: Ah, thank you- I'm not that funny, so I wasn't sure whether or not Korea's humor would work for the readers. No, I was in English, and suddenly my brain went like: There once was a little bird, a blue-feathered little bird..." And told me that it was going to be the 'Kidnapped' chapter. Thank you, malfunctioning brain. Well, it was meant to be sad? (In my defense) Ah, no, I'm not that good at writing. (As demonstrated by the disaster above) Thank you, though, for the compliment. ^/^ Yes, you're right. Except I go at 7:30.**

**Artemis1000: Hard? ...Well, I like 'Kidnapped' better- I took more time on it and did a better job. (Except the site randomly deletes my words sometimes.) Thank you though! **

**Night13: *shifty eyes* Uh... I had visioned it with the sad ending in mind, though I can tell you what happened. Japan charges in with other nations, frees him, other nations O_O at Japan because, let's face it. Japan is terrifying when he's mad. Korea cries a lot, from relief and from happiness, and then there's a happy ending with them going out and he sees the sky. The bird story has it with the woodland creatures destroying thr cage and they fly away, happily ever after.**


	16. How Did We Meet?

**Day-17 How did we meet?**

**I am simply drained of creativity. Drained. Starting chapter-**

It's a Saturday, and Yao had brought them up learning that Saturdays were free days, lazy ones. So as always, Yong-Soo and Kiku were relaxing, or catching up to various activities which had previously gone undone.

Yong-Soo was sorting through photographs that he had taken earlier that week- having existed since 2333 B.C., sometimes he feared losing memories, and strove to preserve them in photographs. (He'd tell you he just liked pretty things, though, if you asked him. Which really was technically the truth. He did, in fact, like pretty things.)

Kiku was doing calligraphy, smoothing the thick brush carefully over the snow-white cloth. He was writing down the characters for peace and happiness in both kanji and hanja. Korea loved hanging them on the walls of his trendy, window-filled home.

It was Korea who had brought up the question, gazing at a photograph of blooming Sharon Roses as he did. "Hey, Ilbon? Do you remember how we met?" He asks, spinning around in his chair to watch his lover's reaction.

Kiku looks up, startled, and winces when his brush jerks, painting the line in an odd way. "Yes, Kankoku-san." He rolls up the cloth, and stands. A hand on his arm stops him, though, and he reseats himself on the floor. Yong-Soo sits across from him with a bright smile.

"Me too! You were so tiny even way back then, Ilbon!" He says playfully, smile widening as the muscle near Japan's right eyes twitches ever-so-slightly. He wasn't perfect, and annoying Ilbon did have its fun.

"Well, Yong-Soo-san, I remember that you were earsplittingly loud." He says this calmly, a half-smirk, half-smile settles on his face. Teasing was common between them, and it was a game of words- the almost-but-not-quite insults or jabs never stung.

Korea protests that, but doesn't lose the smile he sports. "Yong-buk and I were sooo surprised when Yao-hyung brought you back on a walk." He says, leaning back. "And Yong-buk thought you were a panda, since hyung-nim loves them so much."

Japan thinks a moment, then responds. "I thought that China-san was keeping a demon in his home." His face is perfectly earnest as he says this, and his tone is nonchalant.

"But Ilbon was really very cute back then- not that you aren't cute now!" Korea muses, then immediately jolts to see if Japan had taken any offence. Japan chuckles a little, then shakes his head. "I am not offended, Kankoku-san." He assures the other man. He chooses to ignore the connotations of the sentence- if he didn't, it would fluster him.

But looking back on that memory, he could still see Yong-Soo as a child when he watched him now. The bright eyes hadn't ever disappeared, neither had that happy-go-lucky personality. The animation of his movements were still there, and he was still quite restless. Japan smiles, going to put a hand over his mouth to hide it with polite discretion.

"No. It's nice when you smile, I want to see it." And just like that, he overturned a person's world so easily.

Korea, on the other hand, could see the little child that China had brought home one day. The innocence surrounding his face and features, the almost childish beauty of his smiles, the quiet maturity balanced with a small playful streak. Korea smiles to himself, and he sees Kiku's lips tilt up in a full-blown smile.

And just like that, he's breathtaken, enchanted. Just like that one day, many centuries ago, when he had first met Japan, he falls in love with that smile. So of course, when Japan goes to cover it, he stops him.

**I think I'm about to get cavities from writing this chapter, OTL. So short. *dies***

**And yes. I am fully aware that it is short. =PPP**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Yes, but I was not blessed with the gift of humor, unfortuantely. XD. At first, I was staring at your question, but then I just asked the Yong-Soo who lives in my brain what he would do. He told me that he'd cry a lot, and laugh a lot, and if I was going to write it, I was going to end with a meaningful sentence about seeing the sky again. Honesty is good, especially with these two. I mean, Korea's usually quite honest, but when it becomes a 'I Want My Beloved To Be Happy' situation, all his spirit and acting skill is going to go into being dishonest. Ah, yes. But I couldn't just make some of them have memories- and I actually cut several lines I particularly liked. T_T Thank you- or rather, my head-Yong-Soo is getting a humongous ego. **

**Kankoku-ssi: Yay, I give you lots of emotions? ^_^ Le success! Thank you very much!**

**Night13: He really is, sometimes. I hope I don't make him seem overly so, though!**

**Just Me: Nope, different one. The first chapter's AU, they met in high school, here they met when they were 4. My humblest apologies. *bows* I didn't like the second half, so... Alcohol? Oh dear... X_X Alcohol is nasty. I had to involve the Three-Wish thing somehow, and the easiest way was a game. Have a nice day!**


	17. World Peace

**Day-18 World Peace. Is it even possible?**

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry it's late! ...It's just hard to get motivated enough to find time. -_- Anyway, starting the chapter.**

__

It was discouraging, the constant and steady failure of world summits. Perhaps, if they had met as people, and not as all of their nation in one person, it would go better. Pehaps, they might be able to stumble onto world peace this way.

But they didn't and maybe couldn't meet as regular people. When they stepped into the conference room, Ivan Braginski, Honda Kiku, Alfred Jones, and Im Yong-Soo were no longer these people. There, they were Russia, Japan, America, and Korea.

As England, for example, Arthur's complaints about America were endless, and as America, Alfrd's eyes took on an unfamiliar venom towards Russia and Cuba. As Korea, Yong-Soo's face was closed and distant, his eyes a cold, pained dark brown when he looked at Japan. As nations, lovers were cold to each other, family insulted you, and friends screamed mercilessly.

Shoulders slumped, all nations poured out of the cursed conference room, lighting up or moaning miserably as they left. It'd been a particularly bad meeting, with several terrible spectacles. More than a few nations were near tears, and they all regrouped in the lobby in little groups.

Kiku finds Yong-Soo slumped on a plush sofa. The taller Asian had been increasingly twitchy and irritated throughout the meeting, as his fond-of-protest people shifted, as he was moved to the irritation of them, the restlessness, the worry. He sits next to him, speaking quietly to him, pulling slender fingers though the Korean's hair.

"Yong-Soo." He says the name quietly, omitting his usual -san suffix in an attempt to try and comfort him. Korea raises his head, and a weak version of his usual bright smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

"Kiku." The voice is lost and tired, and Yong-Soo rubs at his red eyes. "Is world peace even possible?" He asks as he replaces his head on Japan's shoulder. The Japanese nation looks around, rubbing his shoulders. A serene expression replaces his normal one, and he says to his lover:

"Look around, Yong-Soo." His voice is silken and compelling. Korea looks up. "World peace... it is a subtle thing. And it can come only after a terrible conflict."

He watches a sheepish Alfred apologize to various countries for his worse insults, Cuba, Russia and he turning that courtesy to one another. Feliks and Toris speak to Raivis, Elizabeta, Roderich and Eduard. China approaches them tentatively- he'd said something particuarly harsh.

Stressed and losing his temper, he had shouted that Korea was an incompetent fool who could not take anything seriously. There had been a silence, then, and Yao had looked horrified with himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. But the damage had been done.

A hurt expression on his face, Yong-Soo had spoken in a cold, disappointed voice. "I'll have you remember, China seon-saeng-nim-" China had flinched at how he was addressed. "I was very serious when it came to the Forgotten War, Japanese occupation, and Korean liberation. I was quite serious when I fought you, seon-saeng-nim, when you took Yong-buk's side. I'd just like to remind you of that."

He had been perfectly polite, but it had garnered a stunned silence, far more than any of the shouting had done. Yong-Soo had then bowed to China and reseated himself.

"I... aiyah, I was very rude. I am very sorry about that- I did not truly mean it, aru." China says, clearly uncomfortable. Korea smiles at him.

"I was really rude too, Hyung-nim. Don't mind it." He says, and he can suddenly see what Japan means. Around them, in this room, world peace was happening. France and England were on other sides of the room- not fighting. No one was shouting or fighting- there was laughter, friendly talk, banter.

As China goes, he smiles brightly at Japan. "Ilbon, you were right. Come on, let's help make world peace." He takes Japan by the hand, hugging the smaller man when he stands.

"I didn't like not liking you. Sometimes... well, Ilbon... My young people. Some of them love you a lot. A lot of them admire you and your culture. World peace is starting here, too. And me. I love Honda Kiku, I, Im Yong-Soo. I am not entirely my country. And meeting as people helps us understand each other. Staying in your hermit shell won't make it happen. Let's go!"

__

**Done! Ah, this was a prompt I actually had to think about. I started watching HetaQuest the other day. First I was excited that Korea was in it. Then I saw that all of the four younger Asians were going to die. Noooo, Yong-Soo! "I don't believe in fortune-telling!" broke my heart. TT_TT**

**Anyway, to my reviewers! I have over seventy! Over. Seventy! **

**shinohime-chan: Hello, new reviewer! Are you a shipper of kimchibowl? Or have we converted you, mwahahaha. Thank you for reviewing- reading them always makes me more happy and motivated!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: ...You don't need to have Kiku live in your head. You're a living Kiku. Except a girl. And not Japanese, or thousands of years old. If you have one, give it to me. I don't understand how he'd react at all. He's lying to himself about his feelings for Japan, and any sadness he may feel. He'll tell himself- I'm so happy! Only happy! Thank you- which ones were better? Probably very bored. Himself tells me that he bothered China a lot.**

**Kankoku-ssi: O_O I didn't want to make peop- ...No, nevermind, that's a lie. Yay, strong emotions! Cuteness, I can do. Angst... no, not so much. I can't do sad stuff either. I have such narrow horizons. *depression***

**kiku-dii: And you're back! ^_^ Welcome back, kiku-dii! Yes, alert is really useful- I have a lot of stories and authors on it, and the website informs me through email. How was 'Kidnapped!'? Because Korea is so noisy and banging and shouting. He thought there there was a demon possessing China's house.**

**Just Me: I dislike 'love at first sight', but I did like the idea of having him fall for a certain trait of Kiku's. The one that made him eventually fall for all of him. Korea teases Japan a lot- his height is a bit of a tender spot for Japan. I don't like alcohol. XP Have a nice day! **


	18. Invisible

Day 19- Invisible

**I had this by yesterday, I swear! I just couldn't get to the computer!**

Japan had often wished for Canada's gift for being invisible. And he had received that gift, really- by being so quiet and timid, everyone at his preschool was distant, at an arms length. Oftentimes, he was invisible- just like Matthew.

But it was lonely, he reflected, kicking his legs a little to make his swing move. Necessary, yes, but lonely. It was lonely to have to put up walls, just because he was afraid. Just to see who would care enough to try to move them.

Sure, America greeted him happily every morning when he arrived, but he was always with Arthur. Said British toddler was always quite civil to him, but they weren't too close. Northern Italy was kind to him, very much so, but he was best friends with the ever-serious German, Ludwig.

He sighed a little, watching the Roman Empire chase after a small group of kids who had poured a bucket of mud into his lunch, making it inedible. Everyone seemed so happy. Everyone else looked so alive, so excited. And he was alone again.

It was fine, he tells himself, it was fine. He was a strong nation, and everyone was so kind to him (besides Russia, but really, who was that kid nice to?). Being alone had served him well for years.

He hops off of the swing when the teacher finally catches the kids. He's the mediator, the one able to calm all parties with a polite voice and a firm but peaceful hand. He reprimands the self-proclaimed Bad Touch Trio lightly, and he is sure to calm the teacher, offering with a serious cuteness: "I can share my lunch with you, Mr. Roman Empire, if it is convenient for you."

The teacher chuckles, ruffling Japan's black hair and tells him to to go run off and play with his friends. He bows, obedient, and walks off. He cannot do what the teacher asks because he's invisible. He goes through the motions of living in the same world, but he doesn't. He lives in another world entirely.

It reminds him of standing on a rather tall bridge, and watching the water below it go by. You can try and reach the water, clinging to the bridge with one hand, he could try to cross to that world where everyone else lived, but it was impossible. It's a disappointing thought, and so he shakes it off as he sits next to Matthew with a shy greeting.

And so he goes on like this, and days pass. Until a few weeks later when his walls are shaken, shattered, pushed past.

A new boy had transferred into the preschool, Korea, having transferred in from another. The Land of the Morning (not-so) Calm. He was cheerful with a lively spirit, mischief in his eyes, and quick hands. Japan watches him with curiosity, envy, and interest.

It wasn't fair, how this boy could enter their lives so easily, how easily he danced through life as Japan couldn't. It was enviable, how carefree and laidback he was. It frustrated Japan, how Korea could make friends with a 'hi!' and a sunny smile. Yet at the same time, it was admirable, how he could do this; it amazed the Japanese boy how easily the other got along with everyone, how he easily he could jump off of his own bridge.

Kiku sits on the swing-set alone- everyone else seems to be with his or her friends. He closes his eyes and gives a little sigh when the peace around him is broken.

"Hi, Ilbon! Can I take this swing?" He jerks, and then turns around to see Korea holding the chain of the other swing. He blinks, staring at this… this _phenomenon_ of someone like Korea purposely seeking him out to talk. He nods then, and Korea seats himself, smiling. It's a different smile than his usual, Japan notes. It's a radiant beam, its curve different than his usual lightning-bright grin.

"I'd like to be friends with you, Ilbon." He says nonchalantly, out of the blue. "You're very admirable, you know." Japan stares again, and Korea laughs at his expression, a happy sound. "Ah- I- I too! I want to be friends with Kankoku-san." He's stumbling over his words in a most uncharacteristic manner, but he's earnest, earnest and sincere.

Korea beams at him, that new one again. "I'm glad." He pauses, and then forges on. "I'm sorry I'm late. It's a little hard, getting the nerve to talk to someone as cool and respected as you are, Ilbon." He jumps off of the swing and offers the smaller Asian his hand.

"C'mon Ilbon!" He says, and Japan hesitates for only a second before reaching out to take that hand.

He can feel it, falling off his bridge. Or no. Korea had appeared beside him, dripping wet. He had offered him his hand. 'C'mon, Ilbon, it isn't so far down. Jump with me!' He had waited only a second to take that hand, and they had jumped together.

He can feel that river, he reflects as they join a game of tag. His monochromatic grays that had colored everything before give way to bright colors. 'Goodbye.' He bids his bridge, his lonely, lonely, world. 'You've done me good service.'

'But I don't need you anymore.' And he doesn't look back.

I am quite fond of this chapter, actually. ^_^ I think Kiku's actually somewhat in character here.

**To the reviews-**

**Artemis1000: I'm glad you think so. I find it really interesting, too. I'd wanted Korea to say something cool like: Even if I can't love you as Korea, I can and will love you as Im Yong-Soo. Thank you very much! It's that connection as people that help them understand each other as nations. So I think it'd be important to meet as people more frequently.**

**Kankoku-ssi: ^_^ I'm glad you liked it so much? Yes, poor Korea. (Though that part streamed a bit from my dislike of KoreaxChina) Ah- you have to take Kiku too, or he's going to be sad.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Modesty. XP Well, was he okay in this chapter? I think he was, but I wouldn't know. Whoa. You liked that many? Really? O_O ^_^ XDDD I'm glad. I do admire Japan a lot, though I'm a bit far from loving it. Ah, no, I stumbled on a rare bit of free time- apologies for the late replies. Bows**

**Night13: Thank you for reviewing! Thank you- I actually had to think about that, OTL.**

**Kiku-dii: Yes, I know, right? That's exactly why I made Korea the one to get kidnapped. Thank you for reviewing!**


	19. Right now, I'm feeling

**Day-20: Right now, I'm feeling...**

"Happy." He said suddenly, grinning at Kiku. In turn, the Japanese boy blinked, confused. "I'm sorry?" He asks, looking up from his book. "I did not quite catch that. Could you repeat it?"

Yong-Soo grins over cheerfully. "Happy. I said happy, silly Ilbon~" He says affectionately, walking over to ruffle his hair. "What are you reading?" He asks, resting his chin of Japan's shoulder.

Kiku blushes, but keeps his gaze on the book. "It... It is a book of poetry, Kankoku-san." He says, patting Korea's arm as it slides around his shoulders.

Korea blinks, and a devious smile crosses his face. "Don't tell me it's one of your explicit things again, Ilbon." He says teasingly, and he is rewarded when Japan's face turns a brilliant red.

"It- It was just that restaurant, Kankoku-san! Not all of my writings and drawings are like that!" He protests, flustered. At Korea's delighted laughter, he frowns as best as he can, though a small smile tugs at his lip as well.

"Sorry, sorry. But what's that poem about?" Korea points to one illustrated by dabs of pink on the margins. Japan looks to see, then smiles slightly.

_Ah... That poem. _"It's a poem about happiness. About happiness like cherry blossoms, happiness like sakura. Happiness the color of a delicate pink because you are with the one you love."

Yong-Soo tilts his head to the side as he always does when musing about something he doesn't quite understand. (Such as Japan.) "But when I think of happiness, da ze... I think of the color yellow." He says, raising his arms as he did so, symbolizing the sun.

Kiku smiles a little at the childlike innocence of the sentence. "Happiness can be a lot of colors, Kankoku-san. Yellow is like you- it's very bright, very refreshing and innocent. The-"

"But when I'm with Ilbon, it's a different color." Korea says in wonder, tilting his head as he stares at Japan. "It's like the poem. It's bright, but not too strong as to be repellent. It's light, because that's how I feel. It's pink because there's a warm, loving feel to it." His warm brown eyes meet Japan's, and he smiles.

"It's pink, because I love you, Kiku. Because I'm happy to be with you." He's oddly mature in the moment, a gentle, more adult-like air around him. His smile is simple, more grown-up than his usual ones.

"Happiness... It's brightest with the ones you love, isn't it? Yes, a beautiful, delicate pink." Japan agrees, not letting on how it still touched his heart, those three words.

Korea nods, deciphering carefully the meaning of what Japan had said. Japan was a shy nation- his ways of affection more subtle and indirect than his own.

Yong-Soo comes up with: 'I'm happiest with you.' More indirectly, more inferred: 'I love you.' He blushes happily, smiling again.

_Right now...? I'm feeling..._

_Happy._

**I don't think it's that bad, is it? (Though it's short.) *Dodges pitchforks* I'm sorry, I'm sorry! =PP My mom keeps stealing my computer.**

**To my awesomely cool reviewers: I've gone above 80! I'm so happy! ^_^**

**Kankoku-ssi: Yes, that will solve all problems! XD Thank you! I thought this would pull at heartstrings most with little chibi kids. ^_^**

**kiku-dii: Thank you! Finally, Kiku worked with me! It'd be great if you did that more often, Ilbon-seon-saeng-nim.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Nuh-uh. I am not a nice person. XPP ^_^ Hehehe, thank you ^^. (Although that probably means I read way too much manga and doujinshi, OTL.) Oh, thank you! I will try my best to find more of that illusion of 'free time'! Yay! Bleh, Kiku finally worked with me there.**

**Aidlyx16: Hello new reviewer! Welcome, welcome! Thank you very much for reviewing! ^_^ You are too nice, but thank you! I hope you'll stay for the next 80 days!**

**Night13: I wish you luck! ^_^ Speaking of which- I found these really cute pictures of kimchibowl the other day on a Japanese site and on zerochan. net.**

**Just Me: No, no, it's fine. ^_^ I'm just glad you're back! No, no, no worries. Just review as often as possible with feedback, and read it. I'll be happy with whatever you can get to me, promise. Oops, sorry. I thought world peace, then of the conference, then I was like: OTL, they are not gonna get world peace like that. Though he kind of creates that distance, have a nice day!**


	20. How old am I?

**Day-21: How old am I?**

**I looked over all of the chapters, and I saw that I had angst, I had at least half tragedy/sad ending, and I had fluff. Plus a little bit of humor. But I had no drama. I'm a little bit of a sucker for the big fights and misunderstandings, and ignoring, so I decided to see what I could make of it! Pioneer onto new lands!**

_xixixixixiHowixiOldixixixixix_

Korea's birthday was always a touchy subject for both countries, because it was on August 15. And August 15 was Korean Liberation day, a day when all of Korea's people rejoiced and celebrated.

Korean Liberation day. Liberation from Japan. It was a reminder, a painful one of suffering, guilt, and pain. It hadn't yet been 70 years since it happened- the wounds were still raw.

And often, it was a horrid type of fodder when they had one of their extremely rare fights. Spiteful, angry, one of them might throw the occupation in the other's face- ending in a horrified silence, and one or both of them leaving the room in tears.

Unfortunately, this fight had started with a simple question. 'How old am I?'

_xixixixixiHowixiOldixixixixix_

"Ilbon, how old am I?" Korea asked, flipping through a magazine. Japan looked up from across the room, thinking. "Ano... four thousand, three-hundred and forty-five, Kankoku-san. Forty-four. Your next birthda-"

Japan suddenly stops, flinching. "Ano... I... I am going to go out and get more... tea." He gets up and walks out of the room quickly.

"Ilbon...?" Korea gets up, staring after him. "I'll come with you- I could use a wa-"

"No!" The exclamation is sudden, though Japan's voice is barely raised above its normal volume. "Ah- I mean that I am fine, Kankoku-san."

Korea stares at him with an odd expression on his face. "...Ilbon? Why can't I come with you?" He reaches out for Japan, who backs away slightly at the motion.

He's hurt by that reaction, though he knows this awkward atmosphere. It could revert back to a normal one, or it could break out into a fight. He tries to revert it back to their normal, lighthearted one.

Yong-Soo laughs a little, though it sounds forced to Japan's observant senses. "I-Ilbon, let's go together, okay?" His voice is a little more desperate than he wants it to sound- he's scrabbling at last straws.

_I don't want to fight, Ilbon. Please, please, just... let me come with you. _His smile is stiff, and he doesn't move from his position near the inner door.

_I don't want to fight, Korea. But I need to- please, just understand! I can't be near you right now, I can't, I can't take advantage of your kindness. _"I- I can get it myself, Kankoku-san. There is no reason for two to go for a job that one is perfectly capable of."

Korea catches him by the wrist, and the touch burns his heart where Japan still carries the weight of the actions he had done. Flinching at the pain, he immediately pulls his arm out of his lover's grip.

There's no going back now. Both sides hurt, they draw back from each other with a wary look in their eyes. That- that suspiscious, _doubtful_ look hurts both even more, in a way that screams in pain in different ways.

_Why are you looking at me like that, Ilbon? Don't... Please, don't look at me like that, don't tear up- I never want to see you cry, not ever. Please, Ilbon, please, don't look at me like I'm going to hurt you. _Tears gather at Korea's brown eyes, and he can't help but turn away from Japan then, turn away from the forlorn figure in the doorway.

_Please, Korea-san, don't look at me like that. I- I caused you a lot of pain, so much, I know that! But please, just not that. I never want to hurt you, I... Korea-san... Are you...? You are... those are tears. No... Why is it, I wonder... I knew it, after all... Someone who hurts another irreparably... That person... he will never be able to stop doing it. A hand dipped in blood may become clean, but the blood stains your soul forever. You're walking... away. I- It's for the best. It's... for the best. Korea-san will suffer less that way. _Japan ducks his head, tears falling to the floor. The image of Korea walking away from him is burned into his right eye, his left occupied with a torn, bloody one walking away with America's hand on his shoulder.

Neither Korea looks back.

Japan opens the door and runs out into the street, into his car, and drives for the small home he'd purchased in Korea... because he knew that something like this would happen, something would happen eventually.

It's an unusual fight, both reflect, silent tears streaking down their faces. Korea's lips tilt up in a wry smile. Neither of them was angry with the other... just hurt. Just upset. He pulls the blanket that Japan always liked to use closer to him, breathing in that scent. _Come back, Ilbon._

Japan realizes that this was the second worst decision he could have made, as he enters the tiny home. A small, brown-wrapped parcel is on the counter, and he knows that it is one of Korea's favorite jackets. _It stains your soul with blood._ He reminds himself. _Your hands are covered with Korea's blood, and you can never repent enough for that._

But still, he can't help unwrapping the parcel, and burying himself with it inside a room that smells painfully and happily of Korea, covered in white, _clean_, blankets.

_xixixixixiHowixiOldixixixixix_

**...What the heck did I just write...? It's not even... Neither of them...**

**WILL YOU WORK WITH ME HERE, YONG-SOO, KIKU? -3- Get angry! Yell! Don't just be all hurt and droopy! But noooo, both of you are ignoring me. Fine then!**

**Hi reviewers-who-actually-work-with-me! *glares pointedly at characters* **

**Yes. They refused to fight, really. And what happened to the prompt?**

**Kankoku-ssi: So so so so what, exactly? ^_^UUU What symbolism did you get? *wants to see if it got through to readers***

**Artemis1000: Thank you! Sweetness and fluff are the only things I am somewhat good at, sadly.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Nuh-uh. Well, I like manga *because* of those types of lines. That's why I read shoujo manga. So I think up lines like that for stories, sometimes. I would've though about drawing Somebody's Hero as a doujin if I could draw well enough/if I could draw Yong-Soo. I know, right? He is pretty hard to work with, ^_^UUU. WHat double meanings did you get? [Read Kankoku-ssi's reply for reason]**

**Night13: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, me too. ^_^UUU Though I have nooo experience in love, so I'm just fumbling my way through these. Well, here's the kimchibowl tag on pixiv. net! htt p:/ ww ?tag= %E3%82%AD%E 3%83%A0%E3%83%81%E4%B8%BC The third one fits the chibi quite well!**

**kiku-dii: Yes, very manly. I thought about using a light blue color, but ultimately went with yellow, yellow like the sun. ^_^ Really? Awesome! ^_^**


	21. Poetry!

**Day-22 Poetry**

**Sorry it's so late! I've actually been being responsible for my school stuff lately, and this is what comes of it. OTL, School, you ruin my life. This is in the Invisible AU.**

_'Hello, stranger! Who are you?_

_For I, am Im Yong-Soo._

_You have hair of night I see,_

_Hair many a shade darker than me!_

_I see kindness in your eye-_

_But why d'you oft look towards the sky?_

_I hope that you'll become my friend..._

_And that all hurt between us mend.'_

Kiku smiles at the looping, sprawling writing, childish, yes, but sweet. He was going through his attic- he had no plans until the afternoon, when he was supposed to spend time with his best friend- on whom he'd nursed a childhood crush since they were in kindergarden.

He remembered it well- they had to draw a picture or some other creative thing for someone in the class, and even though he'd been in everyone's world then, he didn't have so many friends. So he'd been shocked when Korea smilingly thrust a poem at him.

He looks back to the small box it had been inside- Korea's handwriting near the top proclaimed boldly that he trusted only Japan with these treasures. He picks up another piece of paper, newer than the first, but still years old.

'_I'm very sorry for leaving you_

_with bitter words, that day._

_And this poem is an apology-_

_Some words I'd like to say._

_I wish that I had followed you_

_And begged you 'til the end_

_I wish that I had followed through-_

_It'd make less wounds to mend._

_I wish that I had never been _

_that resentful on that night._

_I wish that I could kill the sin _

_that had driven you to flight._

_But now I throw away those words_

_Because you stand and read message._

_You know my mind now- I leave to you_

_if you shall let it heal the damage.'_

It was an apology- Japan recalled, looking over the sprawling, rounded writing. An apology for what, exactly? He asked himself, closing his eyes in order to concentrate better. It hits him then, and he pats the piece of paper.

It was a relic from the first fight they'd ever had, he remembers, a petty squabble when both had been irritated from lack of sleep. It had blown completely out of proportion, and they hadn't spoken to the other for weeks, though many grieving looks and 'maybe-I-should-apologize' stares were exchanged. Korea had sucked it up first and placed the note inside Japan's cubby. He had forgiven the other immediately- of course he would.

Not all the poems were papers, though, he remembers, touching a medium-sized, flat stone in his pocket. He always had it on him, in a pocket or in his schoolbag. It held a poem of its own- it was a message for the other for them to meet in their special meeting place. It read:

_'In the sweet deep shadows of the sun-marked shade_

_Where darkness wallows, in the grassy glade_

_Where bluebirds sing and cardinals fly_

_on feathered wing, from foxes sly_

_And blind-wurm's bite, so deep and stung_

_to final night, or earth and sun._

_There I sit, with widened eye_

_to catch the flit of a butterfly._

_I watch the brook, the lush green grass_

_Where shadows lie, and grow so fast._

_The sun is setting, and I must go._

_Though my mind is letting my quick pace slow._

_Goodbye, I bid as dark draws nigh._

_T'il tomorrow! I call, I cannot lie.'_

They had found two white stones in the brook of that little clearing, perfectly matched, smooth, white and flat. It was the other boy who had suggested making them into markers to let the other know to meet there, though it was Japan who had suggested the poems, and had personally penned the poem and written them in his graceful calligraphy carefully onto the rocks.

He smiles as he sees the next one, blushing a little. It's in his own handwriting, and he finds it embarrassing to read over his own work- he often found it hateful after a period of a few months. Gingerly, he picks it up, and begins to read the free-style poem.

'_I wanted to tell you something._

_But I am not so brave, not so great._

_My ways are more subtle,_

_More flick of a pastel-shaded wing._

_So I wasn't able to hold you there_

_to tell you._

_But we've always been able to communicate,_

_yes, communicate, this way._

_I'm sorry._

_I know your silence is_

_more disappointed than angry._

_I am sorry..._

_To have disappointed you._

_To have lied to you when I knew you hated all falsehood._

_To cast a shadow over your face._

_I'm sorry._

_I hope you will forgive me._

_Forgive me for my selfish wish_

_Forgive me for being so bold._

_I'm sorry.'_

He winces as he reads it, remembering agonizing over every word that was on the page. He colors brilliantly, wondering why it was so redundant, why it was so bad, and why Korea had forgiven him after reading such a bad poem. It was an apology in the aftermath of one of their most drawn-out fall-outs. It wasn't a fight, exactly- no, not so much. It was just a falling-out of sorts. He had lied to Korea, saying that he was fine, then collapsing in the middle of their conversation. Korea had been furious with him in the hospital after he had woken, screaming that he needed to take care of himself better, wondering in a painfully caustic voice if Japan distrusted him so much. If Japan couldn't trust him at all, him, his 'supposed' best friend.

He shudders now as he remembers the pain that had ripped through his heart with every word the Korean had uttered, the amount of self-hate he had loathed himself with afterwards.

It had hurt, he reflects. But it had hurt because every word his best friend had uttered was true. But they had overcome that obstacle, and it was almost time for him to go see that best friend- that best friend he now never lied to about anything.

He picks up a note on his way out the door with a smile, a bright smile on his face because finally, today, after all those years of longing behind closed doors and hoping, he was going to tell Korea how he felt about him.

The note clutched in his right hand had finally given him courage to.

_'I._

_I am me, and me is I._

_I am in love:_

_You know this fact well._

_Yet...I have _

_kept from you, yes,_

_I've kept from you _

_Who._

_Today, no more._

_I am in love with you:_

_In love with the slow curve of_

_a smile._

_In love with the graceful shape of_

_your hands._

_In love with the silken fall of _

_your hair._

_In love with the snug fit of_

_your height._

_In love with the sea-like tint og_

_your scent._

_I could_

_list on forever how I am in love_

_with you._

_Only you. From kindergarden._

_But if you are_

_Troubled._

_Do not come to our place at_

_Three._

_but act as if you_

_did not see this free-verse_

_poem._

_And I shall_

_Swallow_

_it back and be your_

_friend._

_Loyal, and merely platonic._

_Unless_

_you wish you say goodbye to_

_me._

_If thus, I shall disappear forever from your _

_sight._

_Yours truly,_

_and yours_

_Forever.'_

**alskjfh, why is it so rushed? X_X **

**I have sooo much schoolwork to finish. I should just become a garbage man. Woman. Whatever. TT^TT**

**The poems are really bad. I know. Sorry. It took me so long to come up with all of them, and that's why its so late, because of editing the poems.**

**I've gone over 90 reviews! O_O ^_^ XDDD**

**Kankoku-ssi: Was it? ^_^UUU Well, glad you thought so. Thank you for always reacting so much to what happened in the chapter. ^_^ ((Though when the idea was coming to me, I said the same thing. Which caused my family to look at me strangely, OTL.))**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: ... XPPP I can't argue with you when you go like thaaaat *whining and knows it* Well, I like those lines, but sometimes they depress me a little, like: Why can't real life be like this? Yes, Korea's surprisingly hard to draw. His HAIR. GAH! I can draw fem!Korea, but not the man himself. Ah no, I love getting feedback and seeing what people get from my writing. It was hard, though- I kept worrying that it wasn't realistic how the fight got so blown out of proportion. -_-UUU. Well, I thought it would, because its a super touchy subject for both sides- no matter how its used. I wondered if I sould make them make up, but I decided to leave it at that because I'm lazy. Well, no, but... I wanted them to actually have some kind of fight, but Korea refused to yell at Kiku when he was all sensitive like that, and Kiku refused to say anything fight-like, period.**

**Night13: Sorry! X( I'll try to find other stuff!**

**kiku-dii: Already that much done! Wow! (What am I going to do with all that free time when I'm done? Write more oneshots?)**

**Artemis1000: Oh, I'm sorry... Well, actually, no, I'm not. They refused to be louder about it! kajkdfhjg TT^TT They are evil. Never let them take residence inside your head. They won't work with you. Ah, thank you! Yes, I wanted to show that both of them are dead-serious about this relationship. They really want it to work out, both of them.**


	22. My Invention!

**Day-23 My Invention**

**Yet another AU- an inventor!AU, maybe?**

Yong-Soo grins, wiping a bit of soot from his cheek. "Almost done!" He cries, excitedly turning the screwdriver so the screw fits in.

He steps back to admire the effect. He was an inventor- he lived and breathed new ideas in all areas, be it actual engineering, acting, photography, or anything else. And this invention was all of that.

It was tall and sleek, a shiny black color that screamed streamlined efficiency and professionalism. He was determined to blow all competition out of the water this year- especially after last year's bitter loss to Yao. For as soon as his second-place finish was announced, he had started planning this.

He had spent a year on it- planning, gathering parts, researching, creating an idea that had never been in the competition before.

No one, that is, had attempted such an outageous idea in a high school invention convention. These ideas were done by full engineers with college degrees- who would go to such trouble for a petty school contest?

...He would. He started researching psychology and cognitive science as soon as he had reached home that day. He'd sent emails to college professors, spent long hours pouring over books- and still kept his grades up and played striker on the soccer team.

He grins as he picks up a black helmet and fits it over his head. He pulls out a retractable keyboard and types in one of the combinations written on a paper attached to the machine.

Everything goes white, glowing... then fizzles out with a small pop.

He screams in frustration, throwing the screwdriver in his right hand across the room where it shatters a row of empty test tubes. The crash and musical clatter of glass breaking snaps him back to his senses, and he sighs, removing the headwear.

"Maybe I need a break..." He tosses the helmet onto a chair, and locks up the lab, slipping the key into a pocket as he leaves the school building.

"Ah- Yong-Soo-san!" The quiet exclamation catches his attention, and he turns, curious. A small smile flicks up the sides of his mouth when he catches sight of Kiku.

"Kiku, hey." He says, pulling his hands though his hair in a tired gesture. The Japanese boy notices, of course, but keeps on with the conversation. "It's odd to see you out of the lab this time of day, Yong-Soo-san. Have you finished your invention?" It's an innocent query, one that would usually bring on a deluge of calculations and results with an elated smile.

But the Korean boy sighs a little, mussing his usually pulled back bangs with a fist. "Ah... it... yes, but... it didn't work." He stumbles before just admitting it plainly.

Kiku is silent a moment, processing the information, and trying to decide how best to handle the situation. "Ah... I see. Well, perhaps you might need a type of break."

This brings a buoyant smile to the taller's face. "You think? No, I'm a robot who thinks of nothing but my silly inventions and forgets all about his friends and photography and his rehearsals." He teases lightly, poking Kiku's head. "Let's go on a walk and then hang out a bit- I haven't been able to talk to you properly for the longest time, y'know?"

Kiku smiles. Yong-Soo is back. "As you wish, Yong-Soo-san." He says, and they walk towards the park. They talk lightly, and the Korean finds that he's smiling more than he has in... well, nearly a year. He hadn't realized it was cherry blossom season- he watches the pink petals flurry through the air magnificently, and he 'ooh's in delight, spinning around so he can see them better, smiling wildly.

The Japanese boy can't help to be captivated for a moment there, before pulling on his arm to jerk him back. "Careful- there is a flower there." He cautions, kneeling down to cup a small flower in his hands.

"Ah! Did I step on it?" Yong-Soo says in alarm, kneeling too. "No. It is fine. It's a rather overlooked flower, though, isn't it?" Kiku tilts the light blue petals up to reveal a beautiful flower. "Remember, Yong-Soo-san- if you look closely, you can find something wonderful." He says, smiling serenely.

Yong-Soo smiles back, feeling all the stress of the previous weeks lift off of his shoulders. "I'll be sure to, da ze!"

"Alright then. Should we move on?" Kiku stands, brushing his hands off, turning carefully so Yong-Soo can't see his face- he was perceptive at the worst of times, after all. They go to a calligraphy showing on the Korean's insistence.

Kiku is in his own little world, eyes alight with excitement as he explains each piece to his friend. He speaks eloquently about each careful stroke of a brush- passion interlocked into his voice as he speaks about something he loves.

It's surprisingly fun, Yong-Soo thinks, though he admits to watching his secret crush more than the actual paintings themselves. _Kiku's excited- he doesn't get this way much. It's... it feels great, to see him like this._ He muses, grinning.

It's late afternoon by the time they leave the museum. "Kiku, I'm going to go get some ice cream for us, okay?" Yong-Soo calls as he runs off, and the Japanese boy nods. He smiles to himself- it had been a very good day- he was afraid that he had imposed on Yong-Soo a little too much, but he... had enjoyed himself.

"Here you are. It's green tea flavored." He blinks, startled by the perfect selection. The Korean sits down next to him, staring at the sky. They sit in peaceful silence, until Yong-Soo decides to break it.

"Hey, do you ever think about love?" It was a random question- one his mind had found on a tangent. It's straightfoward, honest. "Love, Yong-Soo-san? ...Well, I suppose so... Love is important, isn't it?"

"If you ever do fall in love, I really hope that it will be someone who's good enough for it. Someone that'll look at you, and only you. You're really passionate and kind, y'know?" He says with nonchalance, though his heart and stomach have been filled with butterflies. ...He had never liked those bugs anyway.

"Eh? Ano- There's no way that there's someone like-" Kiku protests, heart pounding in his ears, a light blush scattered onto hhis face.

"There is. I'm sure of it. If you look closely, you can find something wonderful, right?"

**And fin!**

**...Yeah, it's late, and kinda rushed, but that's because I wanted to have it as soon as possible.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: ...Japan. O_O I have resorted to thinking what you might say and modifying it slightly to get what Japan might do. ^_^UUU Really, though, the apologies aren't needed. Yes. His hair is pulled back so it's harder to draw then say, Japan or England. I can draw girls' hair, but his hair is arranged so oddly... Thank you! They are uncooperative. Especially Korea. Grrrr... That part was kind of sad to write- the whole fight in the hospital. I had to picture it, and it was so guilty and saaaad. TT^TT Thank you for all the praise!**

**IronFistTina: Bravo, bravo, Maestro! *claps* We've got a poet here, everyone! Thank you, though- I like trying to make people fall even harder for my beloved pairing. ^_^**

**Kankoku-ssi: Thank you! No, I don't, really- it's just that I tend to do it a lot.**

**I'm thinking of trying a gender-bend sometime- who would you guys rather see as a girl?**


	23. Guilt

**Day-24 Guilt**

**...TT^TT I couldn't think of anything for a long while...**

**So I decided to kill off Herakles! =D!**

**...Don't kill me too violently.**

She was no stranger to guilt. Honda Sakura sat on a swing in the middle of an empty park, head in hands, alone. It's winter, and snow starts to fall around her.

She smiles. A raw, dark, wry smile. "If it were shoujo manga... if it were like the manga that I always read... You would come out of the darkness, Herakles. You would reappear, and hug me ffrom behind. You would tell me that it was all going to be okay- you would tell me that you loved me- that you would never leave me- that I wasn't alone, ever- that it wasn't my fault!"

By the end of it, she's crying. Not delicate tears- she full out sobs loudly in the saftey of darkness, the security of anonymity. _All my life... I've always ruined everything. I... I betrayed Chun Yian, made Yong-Soo cry, hurt Alfred... the list stretches on. And now-_

The screech of a car startles her, and new tears gather. _It's my fault that Herakles died._ No one had blamed her. His mother had cried a lot- but she had told Sakura: 'It's not your fault, sweetheart. You tried your best to save my son.' His father had said the same thing. 'Sakura, it's not your fault. These- These things happen, and sometimes, there's just no stopping it. You're a good girl. I'm sure that Hera-Herakles wouldn't blame you.'

But they were wrong. It _was_ her fault. Hers, and hers alone. She had skipped across the street, giggling at Herakles' warnings. He had run after her... and everything had happened in slow motion. She had screamed in terror when she saw the car coming... and he had stopped to stare at her, for just a moment. That moment of hesitation had killed Herakles Karpusi. If he had kept going, he would have made it into safety. If she had warned him, he would have lived.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she turns to see a face she hadn't in years. "Y-Yong-Soo..." She says. The last time she had seen him, he had been lying broken on the ground, tears leaking out of his brown eyes.

His smile is gone. That's the first thing she notices. That ever-present smile isn't there. "A-Ah, hello..." She greets him shyly, carefully. She can't read his face. She can't even look at it for the guilt and shame is forcing here eyes onto the ground.

She comes to a heartstopping realization, as she greets Yong-Soo. "My voice. It... it has hurt so many people. You. Yao. Alfred. He-Herakles. I should... Perhaps I should stop speaking." She murmurs, mostly to herself, shaking, eyes wide with pain, fear, loneliness. She trembles, feeling so alone in that moment.

Then a face appears before hers. "Sakura. You'll catch a cold. Let's go inside." Yong-Soo is serious, quiet... but a small smile is on his face as he puts his jacket around her shoulders. She shakes her head, she didn't deserve to be warm, or comfortable.

The smile grows until that smile is back. "Still stubborn, da ze." The Korean notes in amusement. She looks up- she can't bring herself to look him in the eye, but the smile warms her.

Yong-Soo puts an arm around her shoulders, pulling her. "Come on, Honda. Or was it Civic? I can't remember." He teases her, bringing her into the warmth of his car."

She takes a hiccuping breath, still looking away from him. Embarrassed, though, she blushes, and doesn't say anything. It's been two years, two years to the day. The road beside the park was where he had died. And the swing set was where they had met.

She had given everything to him. Her heart, her mind, her time, her love, her very virginity. And he was gone. When he died, he took that all that with him.

She missed him. She missed how they would tell each other- "I love you" in different languages. Ich liebe dich, Te amo, Ti amo, Je t'aime, wo ai ni, Σ'αγαπώ, ani ohev otach, and more.

But she feels more at ease with this man, whom she hadn't been able to look at because of the guilt in her heart... than she had since Herakles had died. Sakura feels even more guilt press down on her already broken and mutilated heart. She feels it, and her delicate shoulders hunch as she feels the fresh weight sear into the mangled thing that used to be her heart.

Broken, beaten, slashed, torn... _it's beyond repair, isn't it?_ She swallows the last of her tears. The car parks, and when Yong-Soo smiles at her again, it's too much to bear. The tears start again, her heart burns in 5 places where her guilt has scorched scars into it.

She tries to leap out of the car, but he grips her wrist, hugs her tightly as if to protect her from the world and all its cruelties. "Sakura."

It's her first name. He hasn't said it for years. "Sakura, trust me. Let me help you carry it. Let me help you get rid of it. Let me in, Sakura- let me help you."

She cries, and cries, and cries herself out. She had been strong- she had been brave. But it was time for him to help her- it was time for those wounds to start to heal.

-xix-xix-xix-xix-

It started with coffee breaks in a local cafe- they'd spend it together, she speaking occasionally with her whisper-soft voice, and he doing most of the talking, for she was happy to just listen and bask in the warmth and sunlight from the window, and from Yong-Soo.

It grew to apologizing and starting tender, tentative bonds with Chun Yian and Alfred with Yong-Soo's support- playing games with Alfred and the Korean on weekends, forced on shopping trips to the mall with the Chinese girl, until she was friends with both.

Before she knows it, she depends on the Korean a lot- he took some of her burden, and now her heart looks like a heart again- she can smile again, she can laugh again.

She owes so much to him. He saved her from falling into a self-destructive spiral- pulled her up and out of it, and refused any compensation in return.

On the third year after Herakles' death, she visits the road, squatting near it. "Ne, Herakles-kun. What should I do?"

_I might be in love with Yong-Soo, Herakles. What should I do? I don't want to betray you- I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to ruin things like I always do._

She can almost see his face, a gentle smile in his eyes, a sleepy look occupying his form. She knows- but she doesn't want to admit it. She knows what he would say.

'Sakura. I love you. But... I am dead now. I can't make you happy, and Yong-Soo can. Life changes. People change. People die. You've changed.' He'd pause there, a hint of jealousy on his features. She shakes her head, eyes screwed up. 'He fixed you. He helped you. I couldn't. He deserves you, Sakura.'

"Herakles... Ne, daisuki desu." It's a little bit of a lie, she realizes. "Thank you, Herakles. I'm sorry."

She leaves a flower there, a hyacinth. And she walks away, the last of the scars lifting from her heart.

_I promise, Herakles... I'll never forget you. I might... I might move on, love again, _live_ again. I promise that I'll take good care of him, okay?_

_I love him. I won't mess up again._

She walks away from that chapter of her life, the guilt, the sadness, the pain. She had been wandering in there for the longest time.

"Sakura! Hey, Sakura!" But that voice had pierced her darkness, and had drawn her out of that cycle of carrying the burden alone.

She smiles, and walks into the next chapter, into Yong-Soo's arms and smile. For the first time since she was very small, she's completely happy.

**...Well, that doesn't seem very kimchibowl. I'm sorry! It's more Japan-centric than anything.**

***shivers* Lust? The next chapter is lust? *freaks out* Idon'...!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: *takes notes* Show... extreme... modesty... when praised. Anything else? ^_^ Sorry, sorry. *feels guilty for arguing into a corner* TT^TT It's terrible. It's all pulled back and everywhere and and and *sobs* No, no, surely not. I hope you liked the chapter, though! I had meant to link it back around to the invention, but got lazy, ahahahha. He is adorable, though, isn't he? You have reviewed /every/ chapter! O^O Thanks for sticking around so long!**

**kiku-dii: Let's calm down, okay? ^_^UUU I'm glad that you reviewed- for I second, I thought you had forgotten about the story. =PPP Thank you~ Oh! *is very flattered* Thank you very much!**

**IronFistTina: Ahahaha, me neither. But himself got all scientific on me and started talking about virtual reality helmets and cognitive science and actually tricking the brain to think that it was interacting with the fake environment. Thank you, but it was all head!Yong-Soo. I hope you liked Sakura! (Even though I feel like I botched her really badly... OTL)**


	24. Lust: the real one

**Day-****25 Lust**

**Kill me now. Please. I don't know aaaaanything about this stuff. TT^TT**

***hands kiku-dii a weapon* Go right ahead. Then this chapter would never be written!**

Well, it wasn't exactly that he _didn't_ feel any kind of desire for Japan- if he said he didn't, he'd be lying. It was just that he didn't know how to approach this. He knew that, from the beginning, there was an implicit agreement to keep it clean at first.

Japan was famous for being shrouded in secrets, mysteries. And while this element of the unknown added to the island nation's charm, it did nothing for the nations who wished to get close to him.

Korea had been around Japan for most of their lives, and he still didn't understand Japan. And because he lacked this crucial understanding, he had no idea how to approach Japan about love, let alone lust.

His seemingly spontaneous and careless shows of affection? All carefully calculated and agonized over before revelling in that brief, intimate sensation of touch that he received. But aside from those little gestures... they acted more like best friends. And this, above all, frustrated him.

He had asked for advice, of course. He had gone to France first, only to be showered in a stream of French words he didn't understand, and all sorts of dirty things that made him redden and shudder to remember. He had gone to England, who hadn't known either. Alfred had suggested grand gestures of love, such as writing in the sky with contrails, but personally, he thought that'd have the opposite effect. Japan would most likely retreat into a shell, which would make things even harder.

Right now, he's at a favorite cafe, staring out a window listlessly. Hi, Ilbon! Hey, the weather's great, isn't it? Hello, hello! How are you? There were so many choices, so many routes of action that he could take.

But no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't see the ending. There was no certainty about this, no revelatory moment where he would realize just what to do and succeed.

He stands, sighing, before a bright smile lights up his face when he sees Japan emerging from a bookstore across the street. He hurries over, pushing his worries to the back of his mind, letting the simple joy spread over his whole body.

He hugs Japan, grinning, pressing the quickest of kisses against his hair. He can feel Japan's heartbeat, and he grins before pulling away. "Hi, Ilbon! What are you doing here?"

_Watch, careful. Does he look uncomfortable? Can I risk a little more?_ "Ah- Kankoku-san! I was just looking through some books over there. Knowledge is an important tool." Japan has a slight pink on his cheeks, but doesn't seem unhappy.

"Let's go home, okay?" Korea grins, slinging a friendly arm across his shoulders. He tugs the smaller along, talking happily about the Sharon Roses he had seen today, asking Japan about the books he'd read.

_Innocent. Chaste. Private._ All words that had been used to describe the relationship. It was completely true. Hugs, forehead-kisses, the rare actual kiss was close-mouthed. He honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

_There's nothing I can do but to prepare all I can, and just jump in and wing it._ He sighs, then shakes his head as Japan looks up with a questioning glance.

"Ilbon, I'll race you back!" He begins to run, staring straight ahead, not looking back. He despairs a little- he doesn't know how to break this light, easygoing cycle. Doesn't know if he wants to.

_Lust? I don't know how to deal with something like that._

He turns to catch Japan in his arms when he reaches the mailbox. Korea spins him around, a delighted smile on his face as he lowers Japan for a kiss.

_But I guess I'll just have to take it slow._

He smiles into the kiss, and pulls back to take in the sight of an adorably flustered Japan.

_I don't mind that much- and good things come to those who wait._

**...Short! -_- I'm sorry! I have exams, and I don't know aaaanything about love, let alone lust.**

**On the bright side, I've gone over 100 reviews! O_O That's... Amazing. *screams* *throws a party* You people are crazy. Crazy and awesome and wonderful.**

**...Nobody got the symbolism for hyacinth- can anyone tell me what it is?**

**Himself is very displeased with the way I botched his character. I agree with ^TT**

**Kankoku-ssi: Really? I hope that's a good thing. ;PP**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: *underlines modesty* I'm sure you aren't that bad at arguing. Ah, really? *imagines* *giggles* That is so him- ridiculous but cute at the same time. ^_^ =PPP It is not that good. I was going to go for occupation, but himself jumped up and down the idea, and told me I had to have variety- that it was overused, and if there was one thing he was not, that it was cliche. So I decided: Why not have Yong-Soo rescue Japan from guilt. Sakura was just easier to pull out of guilt than Kiku. Sakura actually lets Yong-Soo help her instead of pulling away and soaking in guilt. **

**kiku-dii: B-b-b-b-but if I'm dead, I can't write the story! ...Okay, never mind, terrible bribe. *gets on Sir Ignatius the Third* Run, Sir Ignatius! *unicorn stays stationary* Fine. Run, Charlie! *disappears into horizon***


	25. Secrets!

**Day-****26 Secrets**

**Ah, one that fits Japan. **_**Secrets.**_** I had several ideas for it, but I ultimately decided on this one!**

It was difficult. He would not pretend that it was easy to relinquish centuries of secrecy to try and be honest. It was not easiest thing to be honest with his friends- let alone himself.

He knows he owes a lot to his friends for understanding- because Japan left a lot of things unsaid, a lot of things unformed into word of mouth. He prefered keeping them to himself- keeping his secrets bound closely against his chest.

So he wasn't sure why he had joined the costume crew of the drama club- their prestigious drama club being full of performers. But he knew he enjoyed his work, sewing and designing.

His life was simple. He studied hard, got the best grades in the whole school, was in the drama club. He understood his daily routines, knew them inside-out.

The only thing he did not understand in his life was Korea. Im Yong-Soo was a soccer player- a good one, thus one of the kings that ruled their high school. He was popular, and seemingly good at anything he tried- so no one knew why he had suddenly joined the less-than-popular drama club.

Korea fascinated Japan- he was unpredictable, yet still loyal, two traits not often seen together in a person. He was a interesting object of study, and so Japan made sure to watch this strange Im boy.

_-xix-xix-xix-_

Korea knew a lot of things- and he was honest. But even he kept a few secrets to himself- ones he wouldn't share with even Alfred, his best friend and confidante.

He never told anyone why he joined the drama club- he laughed and told his friends that he was born to perform for an adoring audience. Twice- twice, he had lied to them. About the drama club, and when he said that there was no one he liked.

He had had a serious crush on Japan for awhile now- he could say the exact moment when he had fallen, too. A month ago, he had been taking a walk, and he had seen a little boy, crying in the park. About to go to him, he had seen a shorter boy walk over, shyly quieting the child, offering him a piece of candy.

And then... and then he had smiled. It was the final blow- he fell instantly for that kind boy with the devastating smile.

He hummed happily as he rushed into the auditorium- crashing into someone. "Whoa- are you okay, da ze?" He asks brightly before realizing who it is. "Sorry about that- oh. Uh, I..." Lost for words, he mumbles another 'sorry' before running past him into the auditorium.

He's gone. Before Japan can say a word in apology, Yong-Soo was gone. He blinks, feeling a little upset. Surely he wasn't that bad? But... it was rather odd for him to do this- usually he was nothing but sunshines and smiles.

So it's intriguing when he watches the scene replay with Latvia, only with a grin and 'Sorry, da ze! My bad!" So he wonders. Perhaps, could Korea have secrets, too?

-xix-xix-xix-

The play West Side Story had brought them closer together- enough to be friends, anyhow. Korea had broken his leg- and thus could not perform. So he had been assigned to help out the costume team, which was the one with the least members.

Kiku had to teach him how to sew- and this was when he discovered that Korea was not so perfect after all. But they would have conversations, and this led them to find that they got along fairly well with each other.

It was an unlikely friendship- an extroverted jock with an introverted costume designer. But they managed it- and enjoyed the company of the other.

Their friendship grew gradually from greeting each other when they passed in the hallways to eating lunch together on the roof. It grew from those few days a week lunchtimes to the point where they were just about inseperable.

And all the while, Korea nursed his hopeless liking for the other- though somewhere along the line the like had crossed the line over to love. And as they became closer and closer friends, he rejoiced and despaired at it- rejoiced at how much Japan trusted him, and despaired at how Kiku would only see him as a very close friend.

He becomes desperate- tired of acting and bottling up his feelings. Until he can't stand doing this anymore- he would ruin their friendship if he had to. And so he decides that well, he is bad with keeping secrets, and decides to release them in one fell swoop.

His plan is far from foolproof- but it is a plan. But little does he know that Japan, as well, has slowly started to fall for him.

Japan had been fond of the energetic boy from the beginning- and had let his guard down. _Foolish!_ He reprimanded himself at times. He had let Korea charm him, and he had fallen. Now, what was he to do?

One by one, his precious secrets had fluttered away- and left few behind. And it was all because of this friendship. But he's indecisive. Should he act? Or abstain, transform this feeling into one of those secrets that made up his armor?

So he's surprised when he steps out on the roof, and Korea starts talking in a serious voice. "I've always been watching you."

He catches his breath, stares wide-eyed at the Korean facing away from him, looking at the sky. "Ever since I saw you help that little boy, you've always drawn my gaze. Shy, quiet, diplomatic and mature, you were well-liked- and the opposite of me. You reminded me of a flower- a cherry blossom yet to bloom. I..." He trails off a moment, swallows, and Kiku can tell that Yong-Soo is blushing.

"I always took... special care of you- I didn't let anyone bully you... and to tell the truth, I joined the drama club so your friends wouldn't get picked on. I just hope you'd never noticed. You amaze me with your quiet patience and fortitude, and so I'll continue to watch you." His voice shakes- his hands tremble. Japan is touched- Korea is being completely honest with him- and now it is his turn to return the favor.

"I've always been watching you." Korea whirls around, a look of shock on his face. Japan's voice is hesitant, but he pushes on. "Ever since I first met you, you are the... the only one that had drawn my eye. You were popular with both boys and girls- you reminded me of the sun. That sun was always joking, shining so brightly... and light charms and blinds by turns." It...was difficult. He couldn't help the fact that his words started to turn into riddles, and hopes that Korea will understand.

"Drama became more popular this year than ever before- and the sun protected us. It was warm, and kind." He draws himself up to be perfectly clear with the last part of his thoughts.

"You are amazing, Korea-san. With your easy-going attitude and kind smile, I... I was captivated. You are incredible, and so I'll continue to watch over you." He has only one secret left- one already implicit in the words he had just given.

Yong-Soo walks forward with a radiant smile to take Kiku's hands in his. "Hey, Kiku. I'll tell you a secret- my only one. I li-love you."

Kiku looks up, then looks away as he lets go of his last secret.

"I... Then I am the moon to your sun." _Because the moon... it reflects the sun's light, doesn't it, Yong-Soo-san?_

**That last line. *head in hands* I couldn't think of anything better. O woe is me.**

**To my awesome reviewers!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: I... Fine, I give in. =P Really? Would you? ^_^ Oh, that's okay. I can look at the pictures. Thank yoooou. I strive (and fail) at making it it enjoyable! I mean, he takes baths in it. I'm serious. Ahahahaha... *does not know how to express that rather than continuity, she does just not know how to express lust* Well that part was intended- Japan must be kind of difficult to be in a romantic relationship with. Oh. **_**Oh.**_** *had completely forgotten* Uh, he paid for them before he sat down! ^_^UUU Again, I can not thank you enough for reviewing all chapters.**

**Kankoku-ssi: Sorry! I'm just really bad with love in the first place *hasn't even ever had a crush* so lust was a bit (a lot) out of my league. Aw, thank you! ^_^ Well, here it is! Hope you like! Thank you for reviewing so many of my chapters! **

**Inclinant: You're baaaaack! *is now full of smileys* Half my reviewers have been kidnapped or something. TT^TT Oh, thank you~~ , and that's okay, as long as you drop a word once in a while. Really? Thank you! **


	26. Religious?

**Day-****28 Religious?**

**...Religious. Huh. Well...**

'Religion was powerful, undoubtedly so. It was the power of belief- of moral ideas backed up with years of faith and will and trust. It's a driver, a motivator for many deeds- a thing that drives people to act or abstain.

Religion has been used to stir people up into a strength they didn't know they had. It-'

Japan pauses in the text to glance over at the clock. It was 12:20- Yong-Soo should be back from church in a minute. He flips the book shut, padding across the carpet to to slide it gently back into a shelf.

Yong-Soo attended a presbyterian church- as many of his children did. He was famous for his super-churches, after all. Of course, he'd visit a Buddhist shrine here and there, but presbyterianism was his main domain.

In the beginning, Kiku was a little apprehensive about going out with Korea when he was a Christian. He was relieved to find that Korea didn't really seem to mind but winked and told him: "Well, da ze, in America, it's okay for people like us to be in presbyterian churches- not sure about my churches, but Yong-Soo isn't going to lose to him!"

He closes his eyes to count to three and surely enough- "Ilbon! I'm back!" The voice comes from the front, where he can hear the clink of keys, the gentle taps of footsteps.

"I am here, Kankoku-san." He says quietly, reseating himself comfortably on the soft white armchair. The door opens, and Korea greets him with a beam.

"Kankoku-san? I'd like to inquire about religion." Korea blinks, thrown by the subject. "Okay. Ask away." He says, smiling while settling down onto a white sofa.

"Ano...Are you religious, Kankoku-san?" Just like the preceding question, this one also thows him for a loop.

"...Am I missing something, da ze? Well, I guess so." He half-hopes that it's the end of their little discussion. Because he's thrown off-guard, and his footing isn't the surest on this rocky subject.

"I see. Thank you, Kankoku-san." Japan ends the conversation abruptly, smiling as if a question has been answered. Korea stares up at him, a clueless look on his face, question marks practically flowing out of his temples.

_Ah, whatever. Let sleeping dogs lie, right? _He smiles brightly again. "Hey, Ilbon, let's go make lunch." He slips out of the room first, singing happily as he heads towards the kitchen.

Kiku watches after, smiling too- touched. _Arigato, Kankoku-san. (Thank you.) Thank you for choosing to be with me..._

_though you're religious..._

_though your religion is against it-_

_Thank you._

**...-_-UUU Well, what did I expect? This is **_**religion**_**, after all. *sighs exasperatedly***

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: ...It wouldn't let me post it- it said that it was 'unavailiable'. ?_?... Thank you! It was really cute- like how I imagine Korea to act. I'm glad. ^_^. It's like a survivor game for the reviewers, though- congrats, you're the last one standing! ...I think I should stop trying to drink green tea. It puts me in that mood where I want to try to write stuff like that. Is it, ^_^UUU? That's right- Go Yong-Soo! I hope that Arthur was in character. Oh, sorry about that. Thank you, I thought England might say something like that.**


	27. Define LOVE

**Day-****29 Define L.O.V.E.**

**For once in a long time, one I actually put some thought into!**

_Love? How would I define love?_ Japan wonders, gazing at the unfinished manga manuscript at his hands. He turns the page, running slender hands through his neat black hair as he does so. _Well, there are many types of love, I suppose._

He closes his eyes, and leans back in his chair. _There's love for family._ Mei-Mei, Xiang, and Yao immediately come to mind- but Yao. Especially that brother. He loved all three of them- but he could remember so much with China especially- watching panda bears, painting, writing, just being with his onii-san. (older brother) He was glad he met Yao, he decides, he loved his older brother- for that's he learned to treasure something.

He fills the dialogue in, saying it softly, out loud. "Love? There's lots of definitions for that thing. There's love for my family, for one. I'm glad I met my sister- because if I hadn't met her, I wouldn't have learned how to cherish something unconditionally." There was other love, too- of course there was.

There was the love people held for their friends- and he thinks of all those people he was so blessed to meet and be friends with.

He was fortunate to meet Germany and Italy during World War 2. They were warm people- even if Ludwig-san didn't like to show it. He had watched their friendship, those silly antics that made it so enjoyable to be with them. They were what he considered his first close friends- and they had taught him the meaning of friendship.

He'd met England and made an alliance with him. They had the same type of lover, and had tea together often. He admired Arthur Kirkland for always standing back up- even though he kept being knocked down. He was happy to have met England- for the English man had taught him- shown him what strength was.

He was happy to have met America-san. A bit childish, brash, overconfident, kind of loud... but he always, always meant well. He was very kind, brave, and the most physically powerful nation Japan knew. He wanted to be a hero. It was lucky for him to have met Alfred F. Jones- or he had taught Kiku the feeling of wanting to make everyone smile, everyone safe.

He was glad to have met Greece and Turkey. They were like fire and gunpowder- explosive when together. Greece was laidback- they watched clouds together. Turkey was a bit more raucous- they got along, somehow. But both were determined in their own ways. When Japan had mentioned trying to be like them, both had laughed. He was blessed to have met them- because they taught him to reach not for the achieved, but the unachievable.

Kiku cuts the small pieces of paper out- crammed with the lessons he'd learned from all those wonderful people. "And then there's the love I have for my friends. Yuki, who taught me friendship. Ayane, strength. Hikari, making everyone happy and safe. Misaki- to reach for the impossible. I love all of them, and am glad to have met them." It's a little long, but as long as she's being honest, he thinks it's fine.

And then the final type of love- the kind everyone thinks about- the romantic type. One person comes to mind- a brilliant smile, warmth.

He was so, so, incredibly lucky to have met South Korea. He was warm, like the sun, kind, charming in a boyish way. Little by little, he had fallen for Im Yong-Soo, and the gods had granted him a miracle in having Yong-Soo fall for him, too. He was fortunate to have met him- because Yong-Soo was the one who taught him about loving someone so much, it was their entire world.

"Ilbon, are you home?" A cheerful voice rings out throughout the house, and Japan smiles as he tucks away his finished manuscript. "And then there's romantic love. The love that I..."

Korea pokes his head in the room. "Great! Let's go out on a date!" Japan blushes lightly, but nods. _The love that I feel... for you. I'm in your debt._ Yong-Soo takes his hand and pulls him out into the sunlit world outside.

_Because you taught me to love someone so much... that you're my entire world._

**I actually kind of like this one, too.**


	28. Haiku and Tired of Prompts, Yet?

**Day-****30 Tired of these prompts yet?**

**What? Can't I just skip this one? Unless you want me to totally break down the fourth wall. Whatever. **

**ONE OF THE CHAPTERS IS A SEPERATE STORY ON MY PROFILE. PLEASE GO THERE TO READ 'ENVY'.**

Kind of.

**There. **

**Day-31 Write a haiku!**

=_= **Seriously? Ah! By the way... There were 28 views for the latest chapter. Not even one of my usual reviewers reviewed. Not even Obsessed-Language-Freak. *disappears into emo corner***

**But the show must go on!**

He had talked Yong-Soo into taking the poetry class with him, being too shy to enter by himself. His boyfriend had shrugged, saying: "Sure, da ze. Being by yourself makes you uncomfortable, right? But are you sure you want to go with me?"

The answer was yes, of course, you make me feel at ease anywhere. but he couldn't say that, it was too embarrassing. So he had just nodded.

And now they were doing haikus, the 5-7-5 poems from his own homeland. They had been instructed to write a haiku as homework that involved a flower in some way. He wondered if he should do a sakura, but no, that was a bit too common.

"Kirkland-san, do you know what flower you're going to do?" He leans over to ask a friend, the student council president, who's packing up. The English teenager thinks for a moment. "A rose, I think. I grow roses at home, so on gardening them."

He has to smile, because that is so typically Arthur Kirkland. "I see. Oh- Your friend is waiting for you. I'll see you tomorrow." Kiku gestures towards the door, and the president goes to join the boy waiting for him there.

"Kiku!" He doesn't turn around fast enough, and is enveloped by a hug. It's Feliciano Vargas, another of his friends. "Hello, Vargas-kun." He says politely. "What flower are you doing?"

"A daisy!" Is the cheerful reply. "They're so bright and happy and cute." But then, the Italian too must go, beckoned by an impatient German. "Bye-bye, Kiku!"

The Japanese boy waves, then goes to join Yong-Soo, who's already outside the school. "What flower are you doing, Kankoku-san?" He expects the answer- a Sharon Rose, the other's homeland's national flower and his favorite.

"A chrysanthemum." So it takes him completely by surprise, as Yong-Soo always does. "Why is that?" He wonders, looking at the taller boy, searching his eyes for th answer he sought. "Why a chrysanthemum?"

"Because, Kiku. Your name means chrysanthemum, right?" He beams, and again, Kiku's surprised, but touched as well. It really was unfair, how the other always knew exactly what to say.

"Ne, Yong-Soo-san." He knows what flower he's going to write about now. "I've decided." He opens his sketchbook from art class, and opens it to a certain page. "This is what I'm going to choose."

And of course, it's a mugunghwa, a Sharon Rose.

_Each petal glows bright.  
>Slowly, it unfurls its wings<br>Like velvet. A rose._

_The white sings out on  
>the yellow center- it's warm.<br>A daisy, like the sun._

_A chrysanthemum  
>is shy. Its many petals<br>are feather-soft. Bright._

_Though this 'immortal'  
>is the meaning of this rose-<br>Sharon Rose. Fragile._

**Thank you for reviewing, Mika-milk, Obsessed-Language-Freak! I loooove reviews. So much.**

**Mika-milk: I should probably PM you this, too. Thank you very much for reviewing! I'm glad you like it- I enjoy writing it. Addicted? You flatter me. I hope you enjoy them all! (Please skip truth or dare.) **

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Yeah, probably. See? Up there. _ I don't know how to do that. Oh yes, his hair! XD But I wanted to learn to like it. -_-UUU It's... an acquired taste. Thank you. Don't we all? Oh, thank you. Yes. It was very, very short. Religion's a touchy topic, so I wanted to try to weave my way around the issue carefully. Oh, thank you. Oh, it's Korea's modern, trendy house filled with windows. It was hardwood flooring, white couches in the living room- it really is kind of fancy, but also really new-looking. He has a lot of calligraphy and Asian-style paintings on the walls, and a huge Korean flag on the wall in his room.**


	29. The Dark Side!

**Day-****32 The Dark Side**

**...Huh. Maybe I should go with the whole suicidal!Japan thing after all? Or...**

**Shall I play with their dark sides? Parallel Universe, maybe?**

**THE REVIEW BUTTON. O_o What happened to it?**

**Warning for language- and before I forget (again)- I don't own these characters. If I did, I wouldn't be writing ****fan****fiction.**

He'd always hidden it- his dark side. Kept it away from his smiles and happiness, seperated it carefully from his happy facade. Kept all the darkness, the anger, the nastiness penned up. But he could never hold everything in forever. And he had ways of releasing those horrid feelings that he was so ashamed of.

He had always bottled it up- his dark side. Kept it from a smooth, inscrutable face, divided carefully from his thoughts of justification and seeking good in everyone. But he was human. He couldn't hide it and bottle it up forever. And so he had to seek ways of releasing those feelings.

Im Yong-Soo used acting as his outlet. Took villain's roles and took it upon himself to release those feelings in a way to make the other actors actually fear him during that scene. A dark look, a cold glint- a savage, madman's smile.

Honda Kiku used manga and writing to release that. The words were dark, ragged- the characters fought amongst themselves in a whirlwind of betrayal and hatred. He let those horrible thoughts loose, and they crept on paper like spiders.

They knew about it- how the other did have a side they didn't like to show anyone else. But they were the couple that was known for the fluffy fairy-tale relationship- the one that didn't have them fight with each other all the time- the one where neither had violent tendencies toward the other. So it wasn't the easiest thing to deal with.

But Kiku knew Yong-Soo's dark side- as Korea knew Japan's. As much as they strove to hide it- it was something that shone through with the faintest light.

_xixixi...ixixix_

"It's you. It's your fault, isn't it? I did nothing- absolutely nothing. You came after me with the mistaken impression that I killed your father. You killed all those innocent people- so don't you dare lecture at me- as if you're any better." Japan looks around the hall as he slips his keys into a small bowl near the door.

_Practicing?_ He peers into the room to see Yong-Soo reading out of a script. "Don't give me that bullshit. And you call me an evil man?" For a moment, he is frightening- for a moment, he is all dark anger and ice-cold flames.

"Kan-... Yong-Soo-san?" Yong-Soo breaks out of character- darkness retreating quickly from his form. "Kiku!" A radiant smile captures his features, and Japan spends the evening helping him with his lines- and the brunt of Korea's bad feelings have dissipated into the night.

_xixixi...ixixix_

_**The nasty words are flung into the humid summer air and they linger. A hurt look. Hands pressed against lips as if it will recall them- as if that would pull them back into his mouth and they could pretend that this had never happened. The hurt look turns defiant, and the sharp sound of a slap rings out-**_

_**and they are broken. It's irreparable now-**_ A hand halts his, and the pen moves to a halt. Kiku looks up into a too-understanding smile, and Korea takes his hand carefully, and pulls him up. Japan longs for something firm- something steady to hold him together so the bad thoughts won't rip him apart.

But Yong-Soo has, apparently, decided to be infuriating and lets go of him as soon as he stands- and touches he has received are feather-light, fleeting. He stares, confused, and when slow realization dawns on him, he's torn between amusement and frustration. He follows the taller nation quietly, and suddenly, it's all a game, and a small smile makes its way onto his face- It reminded him of when they were children.

Any nasty, horrible thoughts dissolve, as Yong-Soo's affection and playfulness wash over him in gentle waves.

_xixixi...ixixix_

**-_-'''' This. v_v**

**To my wondrous reviewers, though!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: No, I'm sorry. ^_^''' I hope you weren't too upset- there's no need to be so apologetic. It's nice that he does sometimes remember his friends. Oh, okay. So I should let it steep less? I tried Earl Grey the other day. Me too! When I see white couches, I automatically think of him. Oh thank you!**

**mikamilk: Thank you very much for reviewing! Ahaha, I'm glad you think he's cute. USUK is tied for my OTP along with kimchibowl, so... ^_^''' Yeah. Thank you very much! TT^TT It's...so bad. I've never played, actually? Bye-bye!**

**Just Me: You're baaaaaack! *hugs* Thank you very much for reviewing! I'm glad I can make your week just that much brighter- I should work harder on getting chapters up sooner! Thanks, you too!**

**UnifiedNations: Thank you very much! I hope you enjoy and keep reading!**


	30. Meet the Family

**Day-****33 Meet the family!**

**But...they're in the same family...**

**I had problems with this. So many. Yong-Soo would not come to meeeee ;_;**

It was time to inform the rest of the East Asians of their relationship- a prospect that neither nation was excited about.

"Hyung-nim is going to murder us." Mutters Yong-Soo, a rueful smile on his face. "Mei-Mei is going to murder me." He pauses a moment, then turns to Kiku with a half-serious look of despair. "They're all going to kill me."

It's hard to find humor in the situation, but the corner of his lip twitches before it returns to his usual inscrutability. "They cannot murder you, Yong-Soo-san- and if it is any comfort, I trust that I will soon be joining you in the void."

Yong-Soo half-smiles, then pushes open the door. All occupants stare at them in silence, and the awkward atmosphere tightens.

It's times like this that he wishes that he really is inept at reading the atmosphere as his behavior suggests.

"Uh... hi, Hyung-nim?" He tries for a smile, but it ends up looking strangled. North Korea looks at him coldly, then shifts to scrutinize Japan.

Yong-buk had never been the friendliest of men, but this simple stare seemed the most threatening he had ever seemed. Japan bows politely, a greeting, and he keeps staring. But he breaks the silence with a low grunt.

"Whatever. I don't give a shit." He stands and walks out the door. Yong-buk had never forgiven Japan for the occupation. But he had (somewhat) given them his blessing, and Japan is humbled and grateful for that.

Yong-Soo pouts a little. "Hyung-nim could've been nicer about it." But he doesn't mean the grumbling, and he's grateful to his older brother.

Taiwan is the next to speak, but she smiles. "Congratulations. But hey, Korea?" Yong-Soo glances at her- the girl who had had a crush on his beloved Japan. "Take good care of him, Yong-Soo. Or I'll take him from you. I mean it." She pats his shoulder, and excuses herself to take a phone call.

Well. So far, so good. Yong-Soo smiles at Japan. _We might just be alright._

Xiang gets up, walking towards the door. He had always gotten along with Korea a little better than Japan. He warns Japan with his eyes about hurting the Korean nation, then clears out- to give them the space they need.

It's just China left now, their former caretaker, and older brother. His brown eyes are flat, and he looks at them with a perfectly neutral look on his face. It's a dangerous face, because when he's like this, not even Japan can tell how he's feeling.

"Aiyah..." He sighs a little, and emotion finally enters his features, a melancholic, remininscing affection. "You've grown up, the both of you." It's hard, he thinks, to let go of the adorable little brothers that he had found in the bamboo. He's proud of the people they've become, but he misses those children.

They both stare at him, kneeling on the ground as a gesture of respect. Korea smiles first, a bright expression. "China-hyung-nim, we're always, always..." "Going to be your little brothers. Always, China-san."

China smiles, and leaves the room. He's accepted it, and he's the last. Korea turns to beam excitedly at Japan. "I'm so glad." Japan nods. He had been prepared to fight for his love for Yong-Soo- but they had accepted it, after all. He was glad.

Because he loved his family, too.

**Bleh. =_=... Well, at least it fit the prompt...**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Thank you for reviewing! No, really, it's okay. You know a lot about tea... *marvels* Barley tea. It's so much more convenient for my tastes. You dump in a tea bag and leave it in the refridgerator for a few hours. By then, it's steeped, and it's cold and delicious. Ah, thank you- more striaghtfoward in what way? Well, I see him as a little afraid of his dark side, so that might be why it comes off as a bit more subtle than he usually is. If you mean the comforting Japan thing, it's because he fears it'll hurt Japan if he's too blunt about it. Thank you very much!**


	31. Alone

**Day-****34 Alone.**

**I was reading doujins the other day, and I stumbled upon a sad one- Both Italy brothers died of love for people. But they were grim reapers. So why not give it a try...**

**...with angels?**

**I don't own Korea/Japan! And this is just a perception. It's not necessarily real.**

Yong-Soo was an angel of the most dreaded faction. When you entered heaven, God took a good look at you and decided where you'd be best. There were the choirs, the seraphs who had soaring voices that rang throughout the clouds. There were the regular angels who watched over God's various ventures, prophets, plagues, etc.

There were guardian angels, who watched over people, and there were his section.

The angels who brought death.

They flew around, passing their hands gently over the faces of humans who were to die. A special lullaby to guide them on their way was sung, to help the spirit from the body, and then they left.

Causing so many to die, having to sing so many dead to rest, made many of them mute to everyday conversation.

Death angels were handpicked carefully, because they had to be strong people who would not break. Angels who would not try and save a human's life.

Death angels were also the ones that ran the risk of disappearing. God would never tell them if those angels simply ceased to exist- why sometimes those they saved, when their time came, would sometimes vanish as well.

Yong-Soo was a huge exception to many of his peers- far from mute, he was a bright, cheerful man who was always smiling. He described his job in a different way; "I get to sing people to finally and go meet their Creator. Isn't that a really good job?"

He was a confident man who'd never fallen in love. His life on earth had been fairly short, and ridiculously hard. He'd been the perfect guy for the job.

He glances at the list in his hands as he sits on a telephone pole. His mentor and friend perches next to him on a black wire.

"Xiang, what happens to those angels, da ze? Those one-in-a-billion ones to try to save a human, then disappear?" Yong-Soo asks. It's been over a hundred years, he's heard, since the last time a death angel had broken down like that.

He held those angels slightly in contempt- why save a human from dying? Angels were dead, too- why bother? It just didn't make sense.

"Mm... No one knows. Back to work." Xiang had never been one for talking a lot. He flies off after the next name is input into their list. His says Wang, Meilan.

Yong-Soo's says Honda, Kiku.

_Two months, 3 hours, 2 minutes, 7 seconds._

Yong-Soo finally arrives in Japan, and tiredly flumps onto the top of a traditional house. Well, at least it was interesting. He could see a variety of odd creatures, and even the ghost of a little girl.

He spots the man he's looking for, the Honda Kiku scheduled to die in 2 month's time. He's a bit small, with black hair, eyes, and dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks. Yong-Soo wonders why he's dressed so formally, and sticks his head off of the roof so he can see better.

Both men are shocked. Kiku gives a small cry of surprise, jerking backwards. Yong-Soo tips off of the roof, barely catching himself to land on his feet.

"Y- May I ask what you might be doing on my roof?" It was strange- he never got... what did you call it? Egged? Rolled? Yong-Soo sat up, dusting off his gray hoodie.

"You can see me?" Seeing the supernatural was a rare trait- he'd seen it only once before. Alfred's human, the one with the humongous eyebrows was able to see him. Both elf and human hadn't been seen for a while, though- so maybe those with this talent were short-lived.

"Yes...Should I not be able to?" Asks the Japanese man, still staring. "Yes. But that's okay, this is more fun, right? I'm Im Yong-Soo, by the way. And I'll be with you for about two months, okay?" The Korean smiles... well, angelically, and floats around him in circles.

"No one else can see me, though. I'm glad you can!" Kiku frowns a little. Was this some elaborate hoax? Or maybe Kirkland-san wasn't completely weird, and that Alfred elf-thing he kept raving about was real.

"...I am happy to meet you... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" He just goes with it- the boy seems harmless. "That's 'cause I didn't tell you, da ze!"

Yong-Soo settles on the ground. "I'm Im Yong-Soo, and I proudly originate from Korea!" He grins. "You're Honda Kiku, and you're 22. I'm older than you!"

Kiku wouldn't put it past this strange man to be thousands of years old. Yong-Soo answers the question for him. "I'm 23." He'd died only recently. Nine months, twenty-seven days, and 15 hours ago. He'd had leukemia- he'd always known he wouldn't last too long. The only thing he'd regretted about his life was not being able to reconcile with his older brother.

He snaps out of his sudden silence, and sits down. "I'd like to be your friend, Kiku!" He exclaims happily. It'd be fine, right? He'd looked over his file already- Honda Kiku was a good man overall- good enough to make it to heaven, he was sure.

So it wouldn't matter if Kiku died, right? This would be fine.

_3 weeks, 1 day, 17 hours, 20 minutes, 59 seconds._

He'd gotten accustomed to it, eventually, having Yong-Soo float around behind him wherever he went. It was... fun, surprisingly. Yong-Soo enjoyed pointing the most random of things out and making jokes about them. He wasn't the worst person that could be following him around.

Yong-Soo became part of his daily life- the bright smile, easy laughter, the constant stream of talk. And Kiku became part of Yong-Soo's. The rare, gentle laughter- the slight smiles, the enigmatic remarks. Kiku was a puzzle, a mystery and a friend.

He hoped their camaderie would continue in heaven.

He hoped that Kiku wouldn't be angry when he died and found that Yong-Soo hadn't told him. Hadn't told him that he was an angel of death. Hadn't told him that he was going to die.

So it was fine, until Yong-Soo found out.

Until he found out that Kiku was afraid of dying. The revelation shook up his world- tore it up by its foundations and slammed it around. Guilt collected in his chest- the death angel code forbid them to discuss the matter with anyone but another of their kind.

God watched this and he had to sigh, just a little. Yong-Soo had done the grim ranks of the death angels a lot of good. They'd finally started seeing their job in a more positive light. It was a shame, a blessing and a mishap.

It looked like the boy had finally fallen in love. It was a shame that it had happened now.

_2 hours, 30 minutes, 22 seconds._

Kiku wakes up, goes through his regular routines. It's Saturday, August seventh. Yong-Soo closes his eyes. For this is the day when Kiku is scheduled to die.

He follows Kiku to the grocery store as he spends the last hours of Kiku's life in an attempt at merriment. They meet a little girl, the daughter of a neighbor. They cross the road together when the little girl comes running behind.

It's sudden. The girl closes her eyes, and waits to die as she hears a loud screech, the honking of horns. Kiku has pushed her out of the way.

Kiku closes his eyes, and waits to die as he pushes the little girl out of the way. Because he can hear the terrible screech on rubber on pavement, the smell of exhaust, small pebbles pelting his skin.

But he opens one eye, and he's safely out of the way. He's alive. He turns to see Yong-Soo, standing right next to the car... starting to glow from feet up.

_Rules of a death angel. Never get attached to a human. Never save a human from death. Never tell any but another death angel about a human's coming death. If you break any of those rules, you disappear._

"Hey, Kiku? Sorry, I never told you what I was. I'm... a death angel- I came to take your life. You were supposed to die here- August 7th, 9:30:34. Car accident." Yong-Soo pauses, and Kiku takes the chance to speak.

"Your feet- they're see-through, Yong-Soo-san." He says urgently, looking around. Yong-Soo smiles. "I know."

He's halfway see-through now, his jeans a faded shadow of blue. "You... are the first person I've ever fallen in love with, Kiku. I'm glad to have met you. Please, Kiku..."

He's completely see-through, and he begins to fade completely as he walks away. "Take good care of the life I've given you."

He has no regrets. He is Im Yong-Soo, whose policy was to live each day to the fullest. He's glad to have given his life to so worthy a receiver.

And maybe this was true death, a retreat into nothingness. He looks up at the sky to hear not just one voice, but hundreds.

_In one second, Im Yong-Soo will disappear. It is 9:30:33._

It's the death angels, who have all come to thank their colleague and friend.

There's a burst of blue light, and a lone tear falls down Kiku's face. He's smart- and a famed historian in the knowledge of the supernatural.

So he knows what Yong-Soo has given up for him.

To Mother and Father.  
>I am very sorry to leave you this way- it was not my intention to do so.<br>Please take good care of the rest of my siblings, and don't be too sad.  
>But I had to go.<br>Please forgive me for never reconciling with you. Please forgive me for never reconciling with older brother. Please forgive me for leaving you with only one son of four children.  
>I'm going to tell you a story, mother, father.<br>The story of an amazing angel who saved my life.  
>I am really sorry- but I was never meant to live very long.<br>Your son.

_I'm sorry, Yong-Soo-san. In a world where you and my sister Meilan don't exist... I don't want to stay either. Please forgive me for wasting your sacrifice. I hope to meet you again._

He steps nearer to the cliff's edge, and watches the sea he used to be afraid of. He faces the rising sun as he plummets.

A sickening crunch rings out into the morning air, and two figures flit down to sing a broken soul to rest.

**I really wondered if I should've included an omake- you know, a happy ending type thing. Yeah. This turned out worse than I thought it would. Please forgive me. ^_^|||**

**But hey, 2013 words, according to Google Docs. Only 1,92- according to Doc Manager. Hmph. I wonder what random words got deleted? I have so much more stuff I wanted to put in- how the death angel who sings you to rest becomes your mentor if you become a death angel, lots of stuff. **

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: I see. ;) I hope you'll be able to- it really is very good. Ah, no, criticism is always a good thing. Ah, yes, thank you. Thank you very much! I had planned to genderbend Korea and go with a human AU, first, having Kiku freak out and worry about having a dragon lady matriarch, etc. And then the whole family's like: Are you really okay with a girlfriend like her? The brothers are like: Is your brain okay? Like- it isn't damaged or anything, right? Ah, good. I'm glad. ^_^**


	32. Don't Hit Me!

**Day-****35 Don't Hit Me!**

**=_=... Really. Really?**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

The night is cold, and his black boots make crunching sounds as he approaches the place where the two Koreas are being kept.

His heart twists within his chest as he reviews what he must do. Punishment was in store for the younger twin for the uprising- a beating. Japan pauses in his walk, and stands a moment, breathing in the cold, sharp air.

_I can't do this._ Something in him says, some broken part of him that is what's left of his love and compassion. _I can't do this, please, don't make me. What am I doing? _

He closes his eyes, screws them up until the stinging behind them subsides. The colder part of him, the coward who hid behind the unforgiving mask, the Honda Kiku he was so ashamed of replies to that sad voice. _You can do this. You... I... We're a monster. I could have tried harder- begged more to spare them, please. But I was too afraid, too cowardly, too weak. _

_I'm nothing but a monster, and this I'll forever be. Branded traitor- burned into my soul._ He opens them again, straightens the ironically white uniform, and takes another step in the darkness.

He pulls out that inscrutable mask he was so famed for, hides all his feelings of regret and sadness and guilt to pummel himself with later. Duty was duty. And orders must be carried out. He owed loyalty to his leaders- and so he must do this, no matter how much he hated himself for succumbing to it.

He reaches the door, and listens for the whispers. The frantic Korean flurrying back and forth, saying: 'What have you done?' 'It can't be helped.' 'Don't move.' 'I'm not afraid.' Little, fragmented sentences that betray fear and defiance and anger.

He builds up his walls again, and his black eyes harden until they look blank and flat and robotic. Until they look like the eyes of a doll, of a puppet. Which, again, might be a good indicator to what his situation is.

He unlocks the door, and the two figures in the bloody hanboks stare up at him. He had braced himself for this, the onslaught of hatred and anger that rolls off of the two in waves, the accusations and the unspoken 'traitor!' that screams itself hoarse in their eyes.

It was that very younger twin that broke his heart when he did so. The older had never liked him very much, but Yong-Soo- no, Yon-Su, he had to remember that- and he had been inseparable.

Seeing those brown eyes ice over always hurt. Yong-buk stands, as if about to obediently follow, and the gesture of protection makes his heart hurt again. But he levels his gaze coolly, saying: "Not you. Yon-Su is to come with me."

His tone is clipped- the Japanese completely neutral, indifferent. Yong-Soo stands, and follows him to a room where he is bound by guards, and then left alone.

"Im Yon-Su. Your people rose up-" Stalling, stalling, anything to keep from having to harm him- you're a master of evasive language, keep talking for as long as you can.

But eventually, his words run out, and he turns to the nation in the chair. He raises his hand, and Yong-Soo flinches. "Don't hit me! Don't touch me!"

For a moment, he falters, hesitates- for a moment, uncertainty and regret fill those hardened eyes, just for a second, he seems like the Honda Kiku that Yong-Soo knew so well.

Yong-Soo doesn't want it. He doesn't want that show of humanity, and wishes that Japan would just hurt him already, so he can go back to hating the nation in peace. He can't hate him when that look fills his eyes, can't, no matter how much he wants to.

Kiku swallows hard, pushes those emotions back, and a twisted sense of relief fills both men when they can't see that feeling anymore.

So blindly, robotically, he punishes Yong-Soo, who takes it in silence, with only a piercing glare to alert Japan to the fact that this is actually happening.

He leads the bloody, bruised nation back to his brother, then leaves, locking the door. He rubs at his hands absentmindedly as he returns to his quarters- hating himself and his leader more than ever.

Yong-Soo muses on that look as he curls up next to his brother, the fresh wounds throbbing. He looked... so... heartbroken. Was that the word he wanted? And he wonders why, or perhaps this was hard on Japan, too, maybe.

He hates that thought. Japan was hurting them, Japan was killing them slowly- Japan wasn't allowed to feel hurt- he wasn't allowed to. He closes his eyes.

It didn't happen, as far as he was concerned.

It didn't happen, as far as Japan was concerned.

It was easier that way.

**Okay. I didn't expect that.**

**To the reviewers! Almost 130, wow!**

**Piringgg: Thank you very much! ((Now I have the urge to point and say 'And I love you, random citizen. ||OTL I'm sorry, I'm really random.)) I'm glad you enjoyed. ^_^**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: I hope they get better... Ahaha, I always have several ideas for chapters and end up scrapping a lot of plots. ^_^||| I realized that about 5 minutes after I put it up- that it wouldn't connect fully until the very end. Oh wow... endless cycles of suicide. Well, I wanted to write a happy ending, but I think the sad ending fit better, don't you think?**

**Just Me: You're back again! Yay! ^_^ Let me find that... ar cana-h eart. tumb m/post/204 9586 0223/gri m-reap er-stori es-pruit a-spam ano Just remove the spaces. ^_^ Ah, I had planned to insert Vietnam and Thailand in somewhere, but that got lost somewhere around the middle. ^_^UUU But then again, it was the East Asian family, so... Nonsense. Enjoy your day!**

**Artemis: Thank you very much! Lol, he's so rude, though.**

**Baws: Thank you very much for reviewing. I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I hope you will keep reading.**


	33. Carpe Diem

**Day-****36 Carpe Diem**

**Well, the prompt was 'Epic Names'. Yes. Really. What am I supposed to do with 'Epic Names'? Unless you people wanted me to do a drabble on what their names mean- which I'm sure you do not.**

**And plus, I haven't gotten any fluff out for a while- the last two have been depressing chapters. Although my fluff muse has been depriving me for awhile...**

**I don't own Hetalia!**

Yong-Soo was a morning person- he was thousands of years old, but he still always rose with the sun. He'd smile brightly- a 'good morning' at the sun, watching the bright reds and purples color the horizon.

It was routine- getting up, making breakfast, washing up and getting ready to face the day. Make the most of it, because you don't know what will happen tomorrow. Live every day to the fullest.

His personal motto, the phrase that he lived his life with: Live life without any regrets. It was idealistic, a high-reaching promise to try and be happy.

Granted, life wasn't perfect, and it didn't always work out that way.

He regretted not being able to reconcile with his older brother. Forcibly split aparts into two Koreas, an already taciturn brother had been driven to the edge of human- well, nation, endurance, full of unrest and... and anger. A brother who no longer seemed to want to look upon his face.

He regretted his estrangement from Kiku. For decades, Yong-Soo had wrestled with his feelings of revenge and anger and hatred, called to mind that searing moment of humanity that he had seen, just that once. That moment of uncertainty that he had tried so desperately to forget.

South Korea had never forgiven Japan. Yong-Soo, on the other hand, had.

Speaking of which, Yong-Soo had never been all too fond of Japan's prime minister- having watched the public apology, he wasn't sure if it was sincere.

He breathes in smacking his cheeks with his palms in order to clear his head of those thoughts. "It's Saturday, da ze- Ah! I should sort out all those photos." With that in mind, he heads towards the multiple shoeboxes that line a shelf, and a series of albums.

He flicks through them happily, sorting and sliding them into different albums. It was a peaceful day- no annoying boss to push him around, no secretary to nag at him and make fun of him.

So he's surprised when the doorbell rings- he isn't expecting any visitors. But he's delighted, and that happiness mixes with the surprise in his warm brown eyes as he calls: "Coming!" to the door. He flings open the door with his Photograph-SmileTM, and a "Sorry to keep you wait-"

But he trails off, the smile giving way to an all-too-honest look of shock when he sees who his visitor is.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Kiku was nervous- he really didn't know what he had been thinking when he bought a plane ticket to South Korea. He doesn't know what to do- well, he does, but at the same time, he didn't. But he'd already come here, already rung the doorbell, and lo and behold, the door had opened.

Idly, some part of his brain wonders how Yong-Soo is going to take this- anger? Incredulity? But- ah... He closes obsidian eyes for a moment to try and muster up some courage, to scrounge up some of that honesty he so admired in the very country he'd come to see.

_Seize the day_. He tells himself, and with that, he looks up to a stunned silence.

"I-Ilbon...?" His name jolts him, and he bows, low in respect and repentance and sorrow, trying to force out those words so hard for him to say.

"Kankoku-san- I... um, please... that is, I..." A string of stutters leaves his mouth, and _why can't he say it?_

He can't. Or rather, he isn't given the chance to. "Do you... want to come in?" The Korean is slow, hesitant. Japan lets himself nod, and enter.

It's distinctively Western, he notices, as he looks around the window-filled home. But there's a definite Asian flavor as well- the calligraphy, the odd statue of a dragon, a cup of roasted barley tea on the coffee table.

"So... is there a reason for the visit, da ze? Or is it for fun?" Yong-Soo tentatively pushes the question at Kiku- who seems slightly nervous.

"I..." He looks down, takes a deep breath, and bows- the dogeza. It was- it was marked with a hint of shame, that position, but he really, truly meant the 'sorry', the beyond-the-ordinary repentance that it created.

"I'm sorry." Two words. Was it that hard to say? He wonders, forehead pressed to the hardwood floor. All the words he wants to say flood the inside of his head. _I know. I know that it can never ever be enough to apologize for what I did to you- but I am sorry, so, so, sorry. Sorry that I was a coward, sorry that I was weak, sorry for what I did to you. Can I ever repent enough?_

Yong-Soo _stares_. Kiku carried himself with just the subtlest trace of pride- of quiet, mysterious dignity. Dogeza, he knew, was causing a scene, a sign of deference, if he remembered correctly- a deep apology.

_If there was ever a time to seize the day, now was it._ He told himself. _Grab the day by the scruff of the neck and throttle it if you have to. _

So of course he goes to Kiku- of course he pulls him up. In his darker moments, he'd dreamed of this, dreamed of the humiliation Kiku might- no, would get. It didn't, his darker side noted sourly, taste sweet at all- more tart, more bitter.

He smiles again, but its more soothing than dazzling. "Alright, da ze. I graciously accept your apology, 'cause being gracious originated in me." He messes up the neat head of black hair like he used to, and doesn't look at Japan's face. Instead, he opts for the daytime scene outside. _Not a bad way to use the day;_ he thinks with an almost casual tone.

But he knows they're both crying, just a little.

***dies in a corner* What is this, I don't even know... Kiku isn't working with me again.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Ah, I hope so. There are so many ways to interpret- I think I'll end up taking requests to see if readers want a chapter continued, or a different take on a prompt, etc. etc. Like Kidnapped, maybe- some of you wanted to know what happened. Open endings are nice because different readers are going to interpret differently than I do- and I'm going to be able to see how. ^_^ I'm one of those: [The countries have to listen to their boss/Japan is not Honda Kiku the person] people. =P**


	34. What's weird in my world?

**Day-****37 What's weird in my world**

**These prompts. They are going to kill me.**

**I don't own Hetalia!**

Im Yong-Soo, in a nutshell, was weird. Many different factors and components made up the Korean boy- which made it very difficult for the most judgemental of his peers to label him and seal him away in a box.

They had all thought to label him as a popular jock- brought out the box, ripped a length of sealing tape. Because Im Yong-Soo was a cheerful, kind, guy who was a soccer player. As soon as they slid him in and taped him up, he tore through the box, and danced off in his merry way.

Because he was a smart person- not studious like some others, but an achiever of grades that only those labeled "nerd" seemed to get. So they were torn between the two boxes- and they finally merged them. They grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him in, hurriedly taped the container shut.

As if to infuriate them, Yong-Soo then joined the drama club, which threw the masses of people who labeled into turmoil. Popular jock and theater kid were polar opposites in their world. And yet this... this oddity managed to pull it off.

As the year went by, he squirmed out of each and every box they merged, formed, made. By the end of the year, they realized that the box was humongous, bits and pieces from every clique. And that Yong-Soo, the anomaly, finally stayed put.

Oh, Yong-Soo knew that he was an anomaly to those judgemental people- He was almost glad, in a spiteful way, that he was. Weird? He was perfectly fine with that.

Sure, it was weird that he was a soccer player and an actor- but whatever. Bullying rates went down this year, didn't it?

It was strange that he was never seen with a textbook but achieved nerd-worthy grades. High grades, he'd informed whoever was foolish enough to gossip in earshot, were nothing to be ashamed of- he sure as hell didn't want to work at McDonalds when he graduated from college. (And besides, he _did_ study- alone or with Kiku.)

And it was strange that he had so many girls after him, but chose to pursue Kiku- respected but a known recluse. That was fine. No one he cared about thought twice about it.

He leans over to kiss Kiku's hair, feather-light, while he smirks at a gaggle of _those_ people. There were things he liked- no, loved, about being "weird". And this was one of them.

**Not sure how much that stayed connected, but I think it's okay? So short... =_=**

**UnifiedNations: Thanks for reviewing! Aw, thank you.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Like I might rewrite 'Meeting the Family'. And a happy ending for 'Kidnapped!' is definitely in mind. I guess a compromise is that they are their people? It simply wouldn't do to leave that out. Thank you- but you helped out with that, didn't you? ;) Thanks for reviewing!**


	35. Cleaning!

**Day-****38 Cleaning!**

**Hallelujah, a normal prompt! **

**My excuse of the day is that I'm moving, so there's been a huge amount of busy-ness- and I might not be able to update regularly during the next few weeks- a road trip. T^T I promise to update when I can and write the chapters!**

Kiku crouches to pick Pochi up- petting him, he sets the dog outside the Japanese-style home. He turns to re-enter the house in search of cleaning supplies.

After a long winter, springtime had burst into bloom with sprouts of tender green leaves and the warming of the sun. A steady warmth beamed down, and he turns to give an almost-smile as he watches the cherry blossom trees outside, almost wants to paint it in inks and write a haiku.

He shakes his head a little, and picks up a duster, moving the object carefully across the delicate washi paper of the sliding doors. He'd been holed in all winter, and wanted to air the house out- spring cleaning, if you will.

The silence echoes in his ears, and he sighs a little when he realizes that it seems odd. Silence and solitude were supposed to be his element, his sanctuary. Used to be his safe haven. But now the absense of laughter seems out of place, and he has Korea to thank for that.

Speaking of which, where was he? Korea was to fly in this morning, and a small smile lifts the corner of Japan's mouth. It's been awhile since he'd been with Korea, and looked forward to seeing him again.

But for now, back to cleaning. It was tedious- a monotonous chore he hadn't enjoyed since childhood, when they'd all raced each other on cleaning the floors, dusting, all fooled around and still got cleaning done. Now it was a solitary chore- silent and exhausting but necessary.

Kiku looks up when he hears a car outside, and then continues dusting the doors. The door slides open, and Korea gets a faceful of duster with all the dust that comes with it.

Yong-Soo falls back, coughing and sputtering, landing flat on his back, nearly falling off of the raised floor. A... spectacular fall, Japan notes, a bit of amusement flavoring his concern.

"Ah- I'm so sorry, Kankoku-san." He kneels down, apologizing. "Are you alright?" Masterfully wiping away the small smile, he helps Korea sit up.

He does so, groaning a little and rubbing his back. "Ow..." He grumbles good-naturedly, but grins. "You've got self-defense down, da ze. ...Hi, by the way." The silliness has Japan shaking his head, but he offers Korea his hand as he stands.

"Hello, Kankoku-san. Are you well?" He asks, the slightest smile on his face. Yong-Soo scowls playfully, and banishes the childish urge to pull Kiku down. He takes the hand and stands up instead, leaning in to press a hello kiss to the shorter man's forehead.

Japan flushes a light pink, but leads Korea in. "Are you cleaning, Kiku? I'll help!" And with that, Korea picks up a rag, setting it to the floor.

"Ano- Kan-" Before Kiku can say anything more, Korea is off, zooming across the floor, making ridiculous sound effects. It takes him back to those childhood days, and he smiles listening to the laughter that once again echoes through his home.

Korea spends the rest of the cleaning messing around, or making the various tasks into a game. It's fun, and Kiku is floored when he realizes just how much he'd missed Yong-Soo. And in return, Yong-Soo showers him with attention and affection, flicking suds at him, dragging him into his cleaning games, and always, always turning around with that bright smile.

The sun is setting, and Japan's home shines. He puts all cleaning materials away, and looks around- Korea is gone. He finds the Korean asleep, sitting at the kotatsu*. He drags Yong-Soo to a futon, readies himself for bed, and joins the slumbering nation in sleep.

All in all, he supposed, the best spring cleaning he's done in a long while.

**A kotatsu is a low wooden table that has a heavy blanket with a table top on top of it.**

**I'm sorry- we've moved house, and are on the road.**

**The Awesome Me da-ze: Thank you for reviewing! Ahaha, I wrote an essay about stereotyping for school. I took the idea I had from there. o/ / /o Thank you! You are very awesome for reviewing as well!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Yay, you're interested! *starts brainstorming ideas for bird story continuation* A compromise, good. Yes- I took the line from 'Eyes'; which you beta'd. Glad you liked! Aha, Kiku would've stayed quietly in his box- or snuck out of it. Yong-Soo is more straightfoward/flamboyant about it. Ah, good. Thank you for reviewing again!**

**Baws: Thanks for reviewing! Oh, don't we all wish. Aha, being a modern teen, it is indeed symbolic. It's very cute. ^_^**


	36. Childhood Friends!

**Day 39- Childhood Friend**

**Despite this being a prompt I've incorporated in other chpters, here we go!**

**I do not own Hetalia!**

There's been many steps along this journey, many steps along this centuries-long road that stretches back as far as both nations can remember.

Hills, valleys, even a fall down a well or two. Rough and rocky, or smooth with paving, it's a road they've always followed.

And the longest mile, the earliest, the first, was from childhood.

xixixixix

_He's someone I've known forever- someone who's always been around. We've been friends since we were children, we've been close beginning then. Our cords of life, his yellow, mine blue, have always been twined together. The braid started then, our games and laughter set the intricate foundations of our relationship._

_I've loved him in some way that long, romantic or as a brother and best friend. In that step of our journey together, that longest chapter was when we were childhood friends._

_Because I've always loved him._

xixixixix

He's somebody I've known for forever and a day. He's in most of my earliest memories- the mementos I have from those sun-filled days are full of him. His colors and mine, the rivers of photos and stillshots and memories have met since then, and merged into one river, as all streams do. The waters started merging then- the afternoons in bamboo forests and running through sweet-smelling meadows- it started the seamless mix.

He was my brother then, one of those precious, precious people who were beloved to me from the beginning- from the start. And from the first time I'd taken his hand, that happy, longest, most important time, was when we were childhood friends.

I've always loved him, you see.

xixixixix

He glances over to the man he's holding hands with, and smiles. Their story reminds him of fiction, of the books and pretty pictures that can't even start to show the bonds forged during the innocence and purest love of children.

Yong-Soo squeezes that hand as he smiles, and Kiku looks over, reading chestnut eyes with an unfathomable gaze.

But slow as the sun, a smile rises on his face, and it's the usually quiet nation who puts the thought to words.

"Childhood friends..." He says, and leans his head against Korea's shoulder.

_That's what we were, and still are._

**...Um...hi?  
>Please put the pitchfork down? I'm really really sorry! I know, it's short!<strong>

**My aunt doesn't have internet connection... so this is one of my first touches of the internet in months!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Don't I know that too well... Yes. Well, yeah, I don't blame him. I like knowing where I stand with people, too. Standing out kinda scares me. ^_^UUU Ah, well, it was a random thing, you know. I think that cleaning is pretty tasking manual labor, and things like that make you think too much about things you'd rather not, etc. etc. Thank you for reviewing, as always.**

**Guest: Why, thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed! Thanks for the review!**

**Artemis1000: TT^TT Well, I figured that not evil Japan would make it angstier, and I like Japan. So I'm glad you liked it! Thank you for reviewing!**

**mikamilk: Hiya! Thank you very much. I'm glad you give such thought to each chapter. *smiles* It is a bit sad, isn't it? I hope you enjoy the rest of it all!**


	37. Fire

**Day 40- Fire**

**Well, the real prompt was- Why should I be responsible? But... =3= I wasn't in the mood for making Yong-Soo bratty, and I feel sentimental.**

**I don't own Hetalia!**

There are always people that are reminiscent of some element of nature, some powerful force. And the similarities that are most often found are the people that remind you of fire. Because there are so many traits the volatile beauty of it provides, creation and destruction in turns.

And it was fire that bound them together- in all those ways they met, they were held by a fiery red cord.

_-x-2p!-x-_

He sits in the cool silence, apathetically lets the chill of the night soak into his bones. He is still, dark eyes closed, schematics absently running through the back of his mind. He is Im Yong-Soo, better known as Shadow. He is indifferent to everything, takes no pleasure nor displeasure in anything.

Kiku doesn't understand him that way. He couldn't possibly understand him, which infuriates the Japanese man. Because he, with all his comprehension and bright colors, couldn't ever predict him. Kiku is dark fire, vivid. He is intense in every aspect, twistedly passionate in whatever he does.

But Yong-Soo is shadows and darkness, a faded silhouette of a man that could've been. Genius mechanic, similar to an android, for he does what needs to be done without emotion. And this very reason is why Kiku can't figure him out. For he who has known sparks and fires, the flames of people's souls since he was born can never understand Yong-Soo, whose fires were doused and stamped out before they could ever burn.

Light cannot exist without darkness. Perhaps that's how they balance each other out. Yong-Soo, inexplicably drawn to the brilliant passion of Honda Kiku, and Kiku likewise fascinated by the mystery of the secret serenity of the Korean. They worked that way.

_-x-Kindergarden!-x-_

He winces at the nasty looking scrape, a brief flicker of an expression. But he noticed it all the same, and is there in moments. "Kiku? You okay?"

A gentle warmth. Like sunshine. The Japanese boy nods, it will heal, no lasting damage caused. But the boy basks in it all the same, the concern and the relieved smile.

Yong-Soo was... like the sun, yes, that was it, the sun. He was happy-go-lucky, smiling, but always caring about his friends. He was terrifying angry- the sun either burned white-hot or went out, leaving a cold husk behind. And that was part of why, he thinks, made his eyes follow the other boy.

Yong-Soo smiles a bit, amused by the clouded sheen over obsidian eyes that meant the younger boy was lost in his thoughts again, a common pastime. In the meantime, he heads over to the first-aid kit that he knows Kiku always keeps in his bookbag.

Kiku talked sometimes, while he thought. Rarely, but it gave insights into his best friend's brain. Yong-Soo disinfects the scrape, applies medicine and smooths the smooth plastic of a band-aid over it. He pauses a moment.

He had heard himself compared to the sun. But he grins as he snaps his fingers in front of Kiku's nose. Well, if he was the sun, cloudy and limitless Kiku was his sky.

_-x-Gakuen!-x-_

He's furious, and a chill races up Kiku's spine at the nearly inhuman element to the power of his anger. "Fine. That's absolutely fine." He growls, storms past the pale wisp of a girl off of the stage.

"Good, good. Next scene, people." The president of the drama club calls out, and Kiku springs into action, hurrying backstage to aid with costume change. He belongs here, in the hustle of backstage, he knows what to do. And he thanks the powers that be that we wasn't ever picked for the stage.

He hands a comb to Feliciano, who expertly starts fixing an actor's hair, flits to Mei to straighten her costume so it hangs the way its supposed to. And finally finds Yong-Soo, who is sitting on an overturned bucket with a script in hand, mouthing lines.

"Good work." He sits next to him, legs folded neatly underneath him. Yong-Soo turns to smile at him. "Nice job yourself, Kiku."

It's always fascinating to watch Kiku backstage, watch the calm boy become a flurry of action and purpose. He did have fire to him, he thought, watching under the pretense of memorizing lines he's had down since the week he got the script.

Kiku's hidden fires made him want to draw them out, slow and easy. He was warmed by their latent heat, was entranced by the glimpses of dazzling light that once-so-every-often peeked out.

So he smiles brightly, putting all of his own warmth into it, and watches a blush darken Kiku's cheeks. It was a start.

_-x-Normal?-x-_

He's lost. Which is utterly ridiculous, how did this even happen, because this is a mountain he's been to thousands of times over the years. Kiku sighs, sitting down on a rock he's sure he's passed six times already, and tries to make the stars out in vain. There's a cloud cover, and not one celestial light peeks through.

He doesn't bother reaching for his phone- there's no signal. And as if the universe is decided to make this night hard for him, he slides off a moss-smooth rock to plunge down ten feet straight into a bush. He flinches at the twinge when he tries to move his ankle.

So he stays still, watches the darkness grow around him, the shadows cling to him and tries to fight them off, fight the memories and dreams and horror that always came with the dark. Because if he doesn't fight them, the darkness will swallow him up and he'll never find his way out.

He watches his hands tremble, and he notices that its getting cold. He suddenly thinks of Korea, of the fire that he carried wherever he went. And he wishes for just a tenth of that flame, watches the ember of his own start to fail him.

He doesn't know if nations can die. But the morbid thought is somehow appropriate for the situation. So he does what he does when there's no hope left. He waits it out, doesn't fight the darkness as it creeps in on him.

And then- "Kiku! Are you okay?!" A sudden voice, that pierces the darkness along with a flashlight's sharp beam. "Thank God." Yong-Soo is above him, and drops down easily with an athletic grace.

"Don't scare me like that, Kiku!" And he's shouting, even as Korea hugs Japan to his trembling form. Wrapped in the older man's arms like this, he can hear the thundering heartbeat, the heaving breaths that tell him everything.

"Yong-Soo-san." The voice trembles a little from the cold, but it's as serene and reassuring as ever. He sits up, carefully turning his left leg away from the flashlight.

Yong-Soo notices anyway, and pulls Japan up onto his back after zipping his jacket up around the quiet nation. And for a while, Korea talks, the lilt of his warm voice a welcome change from the previous silence.

Whether it was warmth or light that Korea's personal fire gave off, whether it be drive, or soothing happiness, it always burned. Kiku leaned into the warm back, just listening and watching.

No matter what, he could always use the light of it to find his way home.

**Okay, not as expected. I think its kinda cute though. It's similar to the last chapter, huh... **

**Wow, 141 reviews! *awed* Thanks, everybody!**

**Akumu Lee Crimson: Hi there, and welcome! Thank you very much for reviewing, and yes, they are just the cutest thing, aren't they?**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Thank you, I'm glad to be back too. Ah... not quite done moving yet, unfortunately. Yes, it's scary, but in a way it's fun. ^_^ Ah... I knew the colors were going to be a dead giveaway. *pouts* Well, one was supposed to be more formal, but since I can't use the same terms twice, they turned out pretty much the same in Japan-like speech. **


	38. Warm

**Day 41- Warm**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

Cold, he registers. It's cold in the gray, sterile, and dark room. He blinks twice, and then stands, because there is no purpose to laying about when there is work that can be done. The sound of rustling cloth is loud, and the 8-year-old pads with care to the desk, flicking on the lamp. The light flickers on, showing the only mess- a clutter of gears, wires, circuit boards, batteries and other miscellaneous items.

It's a quiet pattern as he carefully pieces together the usual detonating beetles, or the tiny hinged spiders that shot out metal filaments and were built with syringes to hold Yao's choice poisons.

Yao. The teen had taken him in a few years ago when Yong-Soo's parents had died in the accident that had almost taken his voice. It wouldn't have mattered much if it had- he doesn't speak that much anyway.

Yao had taken him in, yes, but he was not... he was not exactly kind. He had seen what the boy could give him, and brought him home to foster that talent- supplied him with suggestions and tools, given him a purpose and a place.

And for that last reason, and that alone, Yong-Soo created all those toys that Yao wanted.

A pause as he sets a finished beetle aside.

Yao had taken in his third ward- a little Japanese boy, Honda Kiku. A street child with potential, martial arts training, and equipped with anger- a lot of it.

He picks up two cut-glass jewel 'eyes' that glint garnet red in the lamp's light.

Kiku had gotten into a fight with Yong-buk, and it'd been street-fighting versus millitary hand-to-hand combat training.

His fingers fashion tiny feathers from tinfoil idly- flimsy, some corner of his mind notes, he'll reinforce them with steel... no, too heavy, aluminum, maybe.

Yao had seperated them, but both had landed a fair share of blows on each other. The Chinese teenager had been... displeased.

A round shell, a bottle of varnish, the tiniest circuit board he owned.

He himself hadn't gotten involved, of course, just looked on with his customary blank expression. Kiku had noticed, spat out a 'what are you looking at', to which he tilted his head, then turned to fish out the screwdriver he'd come for from a nearby drawer.

A few hinges here, oiled, a hidden solar panel there, and a coil of wire to work the silvery wings.

And there. It was done.

He winds a tiny handle, brings it to life, and watches it fly. Turning to a laptop he'd built himself, he starts programming the movements. A sharper flight pattern, almost angry movements.

He sets it down, and a wind blows through the small window. Goosebumps rise on his skin.

He loads the beetles he calls 'Folly' and the spiders he calls 'Oversight' into a box.

The bird-like critter, he slides into a pocket. He thinks he'll call it- 'Warmth'.

**10 YEARS LATER...**

"Yes, sir." He ends the call, and bends down to place a Folly on the ground. He excuses himself to people that want to speak to him, and leaves the building, pulling out his cell phone out to set the timer.

"..." He's silent, only nodding when Kiku slides into the car a 5-minute drive later. But his fingers wrap around a little bird in his suit pocket.

"Set the timer for twenty-one-hundred." He nods once more, doing so. He releases the bird, and motions the man closer.

"What? What the hell do you want?" But Kiku slides over nonetheless, and something in Yong-Soo feels a little warmer.

He pulls a variation of the bird from his pocket- not in golds and eyecatching colors like that first one, but in grays and blacks.

He places it on Kiku's palm, tugs the Japanese man's phone from his hand, and programs it. It's... more of a weapon than his own, but built to watch Kiku's back. Cameras instead of glass, a stronger build and quicker movements.

He taps out a chain of program, and it takes flight, immediately hovering to a vantage point so Kiku can see just about anywhere in his vicinity.

Back to his own phone, he puts forth in a black scrawl:

'They are called Warmth. ...Shadow is glad to meet you.'

And then there's a muffled thank-you instead of a pushing of the offering back and a 'I don't want this stupid thing', so Yong-Soo turns away as the car halts.

"...Im." He glances over.

Something is thrown at his face, and while he pulls it off, Kiku has fled.

He studies the soft material curiously, not quite trusting Kiku to not have put nails or needles into it. They were mafia men, after all.

Another brisk breeze, and he's unfolding the cloth before he can think about it. They're... gloves?

Not white silk like Yao's- it's leather, dyed black, not bulky, but still sturdy.

He pulls them onto his hands.

They're warm.

**...Okay, not too sure how in-character this is, but it's not so bad, I don't think.**

**Akumu Lee Crimson: Which bit, lol? Thanks for reviewing!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Nope, it's okay. Well, stressing won't do much about it, you see. Oh, okay. I'm glad. Mhm, but the thing is, I think there are a few differences. Kiku feels emotions, while my version of 2p!Korea is well, emotionless. Kiku is withdrawn, but Yong-Soo doesn't speak much because he doesn't have to, and doesn't see why he should. He doesn't need to speak in order to do his job. It was kinda interesting to try and see if I could draw a couple of vague feelings out of him, though!**


	39. Fishing!

**Day 42- Fishing**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

When he'd agreed to let Kiku pick where they were going for their date this week, he hadn't expected to be dragged out fishing. He had expected an art gallery, maybe, or dinner. He'd never expected fishing.

Fishing, in his opinion, was sitting in a boat for hours while sticking a dead bug on a string in a vague hope that some fish would be stupid enough to bite. Of course even he'd had enough tact not to say so, but still.

He shoves all those feelings in a box, and flashes a smile at Kiku, pulling the boat from on top of the car. Time with Kiku was time with Kiku, no matter what.

Even so, he had to keep reminding himself of that as he stared distrustfully at the small vessel floating in the water. It somehow seemed so much smaller and more flimsy once he was expected to get in. He contemplates it for a moment, and while he does, Japan sidesteps him and settles into it with familiar grace.

"Kankoku-san?" He starts, then hands Kiku the rest of the equipment. He doesn't smile, just looks up expectantly. And that, more than anything, is what compells him to step inside that boat. That's why he'd insisted on Kiku choosing. The shorter nation seemed down, and this was supposed to cheer him up.

"Let's go!" The boat bobs dangerously for a few minutes, then settles. Korea grabs the oars, and pulls. He rows quietly deeper into the water, and watches as Japan sets the line into the water with focus. He resolves to sit back and watch quietly, fiddling absently with a couple of lines, watches ripples in the water-

In other words, he's bored out of his mind. As if sensing his mood, Kiku glances up, offers him the second rod. Nonplussed, he stares at the red and black stick, then at Japan. He then points at himself. "Me?"

He's rewarded when just a hint of amusement enters dark obsidian eyes. Emboldened, he takes the rod, and tries to imitate the movement, throw back the string and push forward. It should, he thinks happily, skim neatly over the water.

Fishing, however, seems to have an equally unflattering opinion of Yong-Soo. The barbed hook catches on the hem of his shirt, and the strength he's put into it, and his careful stance on the boat, pulls him overboard.

He shrieks, (something like: COLD COLD COLD WAIT WET DROWNING HELP) sputtering and flailing in the cold water. And this. This was one of the biggest reasons he'd dubious of going fishing at the end of October. Fall was fairly chilly, and if the air was cold, the water would doubtlessly be colder.

But Kiku starts laughing, even as the Japanese nation instructs him to try to put his feet down on the ground. And he's almost sure that it's worth being humiliated and cold and wet. (Almost, mind you, he'd be more sure about it when he was dry, okay?)

Even as the drier man suppresses his laughter, it lights up his eyes with that look that Korea doesn't see nearly enough. He grapples until his feet reach the ground beneath the water, and he finds that the water level comes up to his neck.

Their date ends there, and though he grumbles a bit, he figures that this isn't the worst date he's ever been on. Japan reaches over with a towel to dry his hair, and as he does, Korea catches his wrist.

"Did you have fun, Kiku?" A smile, but a bit of hope laces the words. Downcast eyes flicker up, and a hint of laughter dances in them.

Kiku hefts up the one fish they'd caught- which had tangled in Korea's jacket- and gives no answer.

Yep, Yong-Soo thinks with wry humor. He definitely hated fishing.

**...I think my writing style changed. Did it? Sorry it's so short!**

**Akumu Lee Crimson: Thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad. :)**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Nope, totally fine! Better late than never. Haha, that'd be because it was 2p!-verse. There's not really a 2p!Korea I've seen, so I worked him out, and I wanted to see how he was. **


	40. Time to Teach !

**Day 43- Time to Teach _**

**Time to teach Kindergarden!**

**[insert appropriate apologies, excuses, and groveling here, saving you readers a boring page of them]**

**I do not own Hetalia!**

Kiku hurries across the kindergarden's playground to the monkey-bars, a worried expression on his face. He neatly plucks Alfred off of them, assuring the pouting child that no, jumping off the monkey-bars to prove he could fly was _not_ a good idea. He sets him down with a firm look, then turns to see if the rest of the class has gone to hell in a handbasket (just like it had with the last five people who'd tried to take the open job).

To his surprise, it hadn't. He looks for the latest guy, absentmindedly sorting out little squabbles and chatting lightly. And-yes, there he is, Yong... Yong-Soo, that's his name. The man in question is laughing as Gilbert dumps bucketfuls of sand over his bare feet. He even squats down to pour handfuls over the little boy's legs.

Kiku watches in mild shock as said child is coaxed out of the sandbox to play a ball game with his younger brother- something that had never happened before. It was remarkable. Maybe this one would last. The children weren't terrorizing him, he learned pretty quick, and he saw through their little tricks.

"Honda-seon-saeng-nim!" He bounds up, smiling. "Should we take them in now?" He glances down at his watch, noting that it was indeed time to take the children back inside. Kiku brings two fingers to his lips, and an earsplitting whistle brings all movement on the playground to a halt.

Yong-Soo gapes, absentmindedly rubbing his left ear, as Kiku calmly calls the children into four lines. The Korean draws out a two-syllable word* in what looks like awe before taking the rear of the lines as the smaller man leads them in.

They have about 20 minutes before the earliest parents begin to arrive, so it's time for the last activity of the day, and in this case, week. It's Sharing Time, in which each child is to share a certain favorite experience of the day. When there is a new teacher or helper at the kindergarden, Kiku will sometimes ask their opinions of him/her.

He starts with Feliciano, who pipes, "I liked Center time! Mr. Yong-Soo helped me and Romano make pasta out of clay!" And on and on it goes, and it's Kiku's turn to stare in awe at the sheer amount of children who had cited Im Yong-Soo's prescence in their most enjoyable moment. From Feliciano to Gilbert to Canada- an overwhelming majority.

The first parent arrives, and the taller man sends each child out with a hug, and a thank you to those who'd referenced him. Kiku waves at the last child, Elizabeta, before starting to clear and close up.

"Did I do okay?" The sudden voice breaks the silence, and he looks up in surprise. Yong-Soo smiles a little nervously. He bends down to dump blocks back into a plastic bin. "I mean-" Surprise after surprise. Honestly, he's starting to become unsure if Im-san is better for his teaching or not, he dislikes surprises.

"You did a fine job, Im-san." He meets the other man's eyes, steady and level. "The children liked you very much." A sunny smile bursts forth into bloom. "I'm glad." For the next 30 minutes, they work in relative silence.

Kiku balances his possessions carefully as he tries to grab his coat. Yong-Soo hands it to him, insists on closing up, and sends him off with a cheerful grin.

The smaller man reaches into his pocket for his subway card, and that's when he finds it. It isn't much- a neatly folded piece of notebook paper, containing a piece of rice candy, a phone number, and a one-line message.

He slides the candy into his mouth, and keeps the paper for later perusal. Perhaps his life had become a little more interesting.

Although he doubted how much more 'interesting' could fit into it. After all, he taught

Kindergarden.

**Wow, this prompt was tricky.**

***What Yong-Soo said was ****대박****.**** (pronunciation: daebak) He basically said: "Aaaaaaawesome."**

**Botan rice candy is really good. **

**What the message said was: **_Coffee at Annie's, tomorrow at 3? :)_

**To the reviewers!**

**Akumu Lee Crimson: Why, thank you! And thank you, again, for reviewing.**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: No, no, I always look forward to your reviews! So don't mind me! Um. My muse. It's just as irritating as most writers make it out to be, so I've been chewing on the idea for months, giving it lots of time to develop. Well, he can't always be graceful, that's no fun at all. Thank you, as always, for your thoughtful review!**


	41. Interlude I

**Ugh, bad formatting because it's all on iPad. **

**I had planned to upload on Valentine's day, but yeah. But I won't abandon this! It may take a decade but I'll finish this yet!**

* * *

><p>Yong-Soo breaks up with him on a clear autumn day.<p>

On the way to the park, he'd breathed in the crisp coolness of the air, watched the leaves patterned against the endless sky.

He'd thought the colors warm, then. Thought up a whimsical poem about the bright bunches clustered together, falling apart.

-I'm sorry.-

The drier leaves make crunching sounds, brittle and bitter as he'd imagined his heart would be. But there is no such thing, no empty husk where flowers used to bloom.

It is merely a void. There is no surface, no solid thing that remains, no shards to stare at as they cut into his palms.

He'd gathered up the last scraps of his dignity, bowed, thank you for the care all this time. Wishful thinking had conjured up a flicker of a face full of pain, and even then he's ashamed of himself for wishing something so selfish. He had turned to walk away, but Yong... He. Had called him back.

-Remember me. Carry me with you, but keep moving. I beg of you.-

He'd smiled then, and Kiku curses himself because it was still one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

* * *

><p>Kiku survives. Of course he does, no one sensible does something as stupid as suicide over a break-up. And if he can't quite bring himself to throw out the box of <em>his<em> things in the back of his closet, that's no one's business but his own.

But Ludwig turns soft worry his way, Arthur watches him a moment too long when they part, Alfred seems to be troubled, even Feliciano clings more often.

He survives. But he's not okay like he tells everyone he is.

He begins to learn to skate, the first winter. _He_ had wheedled and pleaded, talked excitedly about "cool moves" and "a feeling like flying". He tries not to remember his response.

-Only if you'll fly with me.-

The instructor compliments him for taking to the ice so easily. It's not any natural gift, though- he _knows_ the ice, knows its jagged edges and lethal chill like his own self. Maybe somewhere along the line they'd gotten intermixed. He wouldn't know.

He turns down the confession, downturned eyes and sincerity. It's already February, he muses, and the lump of ice beneath his sternum has started to turn to stone. But an ice cube, a pebble doesn't do much to fill a vacuum.

-I'm sorry. I'm afraid I cannot receive your confession.-

-Is... Is there someone else?-

It's not a lie when he whispers yes.

* * *

><p>He throws himself into work like a dying man, churns out tragedy after tragedy. After a particularly poignant work, his editor threatens to break his fingers if he sends her another manuscript within the next 3 months.<p>

He turns the lock in his apartment door, walks into a busy Tokyo street. He heads straight to an airport, a suitcase that's been packed for a year in his hand and determination heavy on his tongue.

-It's like you're dead, Kiku.-

He needs... Closure? Is that the word? It's not quite right, some nuance off. But he needs to stop worrying his friends. And if a trip around Korea is what it takes, he'll do it.

* * *

><p>He fools himself into believing that he's nearly forgotten. He loses himself in the bustle of Seoul, the crashing of waves at Haeundae. He promises a new horizon to not worry his friends, to turn his gaze outwards, not inwards. He will count his words, fold in rustled petals. He submerges in the cool bay of a freezing February morning, and wears a smile that clinks and slides against his insides.<p>

* * *

><p>The world shatters in March. Someone grabs his arm at a cafe, and he finds himself staring into a pair of familiar eyes. She looks surprisingly haggard, and he pretends not to notice overly much. He buys her a cup of coffee, and gently prods at her.<p>

-Didn't he tell you?-

Vaguely, he wonders when he will finally be able to shake HIM. But then Mei's words finally hit him, and he is on his knees, shaking uncontrollably.

He thought he'd known pain on an autumn day over six months ago.

What a stupid thought.

It was worse.

-Yong-Soo has cancer.-

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmmm. Kiku feels kinda off to me...<strong>

**Wow! So many reviews!**

**Myrkvun: Thank you! ^^ I hope you'll keep enjoying ~**

**Moonlight Memories: Wow, thank you so much for the boatload of reviews! It's all going to my head, lol. Someday I'll wake up and not be able to lift my head off the pillow.**

**I see you: Uh, I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you for reviewing, nonetheless!**

**Amy Kitty Katz: Thanks for the reviews! Start a trend? Oh my. Let me know how THAT goes.**

**mlem: Indeed it is, I'm glad you caught thAt. Thank you for reviewing!**


	42. A Song for the Children

**I promise that I have about 3 different AU plots on the go right now, but I _had to have something for this._**

* * *

><p>"Yong-Soo-san."<p>

His voice is the only sound in the otherwise silent room, so he knows the other has to have heard him. But there's no movement from the figure on the floor.

Please. Everyone's getting worried.

He doesn't say that, barely even thinks the words before being filled with disgust. It's stupid, trite, and completely insensitive.

"I'm sorry for intruding." He murmurs instead as he steps further inside, footsteps loud but measured. The sound echoes off the walls, hurried and yet too slow at the same time.

It's empty, the room, of anything but debris, and it's to be expected. He steps over bits of broken glass and splintered wood, approaches the eye of a hurricane gone temporarily still.

He stops an arms-length away, and he dares not venture any nearer. Any nation could understand the way the huddled man was feeling, and they all coped in varied ways. Self-consciousness creeps up on him, slides cold fingers across his neck as he casts about for something to say. He suddenly regrets every time he's held his silence, because his words were strong on paper, but weak when spoken, a candle in the face of the sea and nothing else.

"Yong…"

It's gnawing at his insides again, the utter helplessness- this is someone he loves, in horrible horrible pain, and all he can manage to choke out is his name. But this is no time for self-loathing, there is no time for that brand of selfishness. He crouches down, respectfully staying behind him, and sits for a couple tense minutes.

He finally musters up the courage to touch him, to gently tangle his fingers in dark brown hair. Tentative, to make sure he won't lash out. There's no reaction, not so much as a shift, and he frowns, leans closer to see if he can read his body language better.

They've known each other for over a thousand years. Reading him should be easier than this. Im Yong-Soo should be a favorite book, one read countless times but no less loved. A novel where you know all the words and love it just the same, a familiar melody that lingers in the mind and plays in your heart like music.

But he never has had anything to do with the word "should" if he could help it.

Kiku stands again, moves towards his front, concern overpowering respect for the moment. A different type of fear is starting to grow in his stomach, but no, no, it couldn't possibly be. He kneels down, heedless now of any sharp objects that litter the ground.

"Yong-Soo-san?" He takes his hand with one of his own, lifts the other to his face. And he's chilled, chilled to the bone in a way that has nothing to do with the physical cold around them.

(The dread in his heart smirks, something cruel and exacting because it was.)

The still man's eyes are dead, empty husks that are almost black. But relentless tears are constantly falling without a sound, each separate drop blurring together and shattering in impossible silence. He swallows any tears of his own before leaning his head into South Korea's shoulder.

"My children…" It's nothing but a whisper, a broken thing that doesn't sound like it could possibly emerge from someone so normally bright. But it's the first thing that could be construed as recognition, and he grasps at that doubtful hope with all the desperation of a drowning man.

His own voice cracks as he says, "I know." It's kind of strange having to initiate contact, and he wonders if this insecurity is what Yong-Soo feels all the time before hugging him. He does it with a rare fierceness, folds him in until he's as surrounded in him as he could possibly be.

"Please… My kids…" He wishes that the world would stop turning, in the face of so much grief ignored. But it spins on, and he wants to protect him from all the thankless cruelty in it.

He stays that way, mouthing silent prayers, for a long time.

(He wishes he could say he's lost a little more of his heart.)

* * *

><p><strong>Rest in peace. The ferry incident really shook me up- it could have been me on that ship. And I would have died. The nation is in a uproar, the media is in shambles, and nobody knows what to believe anymore.<strong>

**Amy Kitty Katz: I'll... take your word for it. Who knows, and sorry for dropping another depressing one on ya. And the Olympics? Our queen was beautiful, and a class act. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Moonlight Memories: Ah, that was because most of the words aren't being spoken in real time- they're echoes, memories (like your username =D). But thank you for the review!**

**Guest: Wow, are you new? Have I corrupted you? *evil laughter* I'm planning to, and thanks for dropping a review!**


	43. Why Change Anything About Yourself?

**Day 44: Why change anything about yourself?**

**I do not own Hetalia!**

* * *

><p>It's present from his earliest memory. He's lying in his mothers arms, eyes closed, listening to her heartbeat. He begins to hear it transform, turn into a different beat, and he twitches his fingers in an attempt to match it.<p>

* * *

><p>He falls in love for the first time at three years old. He's playing with… robots, maybe, when his dad dusts a guitar off. He wasn't paying much attention, busy yelling and running with Taekwon V in hand when his father tunes. But then he begins a light strumming, and Yong-Soo's fingers still on the robot's face. He creeps to his father's side, peers at the fascinating object. It's a rainfall of sound, elegant and soothing, and he taps his fingers on his dad's back.<p>

* * *

><p>By the time he's seven, he's singing along, though his voice is average. He's stopped following the sound of music to any given source (mostly). He's joined the church's children choir, and signed up for drum classes out of a mix of vanity and curiosity. His mom suggests dance, but he's pretty half-hearted about it- dancing <em>is <em>kinda girly to him still. But he holds the smooth wood of drumsticks in his hands, and as soon as he learns the basics and principles? He's gone.

He's in love again, he can take the constant rhythm thrumming under his feet and beating along with heart, he can finally bring the phantom sound into existence. The adults whisper of "show biz", "natural talent" and "improvisation" behind closed doors, but even at that age, he knows that's not quite it. But he ignores the whispering and the arguments, drowns them out with the beating of his drums.

* * *

><p>One way or another, he enters training prep, but he can't hear so much as his own heartbeat anymore. So many people, so many thoughts, so much talent- it drowns out his love for music, scrubs away any lingering luster. His drumming loses its energy, and approving nods and smiles start to turn into shaking heads. He's lucky though- at the age of eight, Alfred bursts into his life, bright colors and dreams.<p>

"My old man's a diplomat or somethin'. I'mma be around for a couple of months." It's an unconventional greeting, and he welcomes it, matching it with his own cheer. But his smile falters when Alfred claims to be the best breakdancer ever.

He fights down a scowl, show business forcing its way into a place where he'd thought was safe. But Alfred mistakes it for disbelief, pouts and winks with a "I'll show ya, buddy."

He vaguely realizes that he's serious, numbly watches him walk over to a boombox. The music is jaunty, new, something he's never heard before. But then Alfred starts dancing, and he's in shock. He's seen some of the best dancers in their generation, but nothing like this. There's no smoothness, no professionalism, no polished air. It's passionate, it's messy, it is _alive_.

There's a strange sound in his ears, and a disbelieving smile creeps onto his face when he realizes what it is. He laughs, wildly, crazily, feet moving on their own- that's how glad he is to found the beat again.

"Hey, you're not too shabby yourself. Betcha you could learn too." Alfred says it, is cut off when he launches himself at the ridiculous American, half-sobbing a broken stream of "thank-you"s.

"Uh… You're welcome?" He doesn't pry, and Yong-Soo doesn't offer an explanation. He learns to dance that summer, realizing that it wasn't so different from drumming- same person, same heartbeat.

* * *

><p>He holds the lesson he's learned tightly, forges through trainee years and auditions with a bright smile. He doesn't fall into the same trap of darkness, and hopelessness like others do- probably never will. He doesn't make the same mistakes twice (when it counts) and just dances when things get too hard. "I'm sure I can handle anything you can offer me." He says, confident and poised.<p>

* * *

><p>When he'd said 'anything' in an interview with a cool composure, he hadn't expected this. He's a teenager now, years of experience tucked under a fashionable belt. But it's an opportunity, and he <em>had <em>learned basic Japanese. There's not even a year of high-school left.

So he says "Yes, I'd love to join SLR1VER", and any stability in his life vanishes. But it's a good feeling, a threshold onto something new, and he's more excited than afraid. There'll be other trainees too, and if he never read too closely about Hetalia Ent., he's sure it won't matter too much.

He kisses his mother on the cheek, hugs his father when he outstretches a hand, whispers a joke to his cousins' children. He waves his family good-bye with a smile of his face and a light heart.

* * *

><p>Chinese. He <em>hated<em> Chinese and its fucking endless letters. He'd failed basic _hanja_ in middle-school, how was he gonna do this? Hong Kong. China. And now they were searching for an appropriate Japanese trainee- was this an international band? Did it say in the endless paper packet somewhere that he was be boarding with two Chinese kids without even knowing three words in said language? Were they gonna grope around in broken English forever?

And the Hong Kong kid! Would it _kill_ him to speak more and write less? Had he mentioned how much he hated Chinese yet?

No. That was unfair to them, and he knew that. Chinese was an ancient language that deserved respect, and Xi...Xia… Hong Kong kid seemed really uneasy when talking. He controls his frustration, initiates constant contact, dances like he's never danced before. He waits until they leave the studio, dances out his anger, drums out any annoyance. He looks into the mirror at night, smiles until his face aches, tells jokes to himself. Alfred saved him. He notices a slight quaver in the otherwise well-rounded ponytail's voice, and trembling in Hong Kong's fingers.

He'll be damned if he doesn't save these guys. They're a band now, and bands stick together.

* * *

><p>Another year speeds by, and Xiang and Yao have forgotten that he was ever less silly, more solitary. It's because he's done it- become the bright being he's aspired to a year ago. His smiles bloom without prompting, and his jokes flow easily. They're comfortable enough to hit him when they feel he's being annoying. He drape himself on top of Yao, strikes up a comfortable bantering with Xiang. He dances, the same old beat as ever.<p>

Sometimes it's easy to forget that they still don't have a bassist, and sometimes it's hard. But he trusts in their manager-hyung, and is sure to get up to all kinds of shenanigans to keep everyone busy.

(And maybe something in him doesn't _want_ a bassist- it's comfortable now and) he thinks he can live like this, all balance, no gravity.

* * *

><p>Of course, that's when everything has to change. A late piece of mail, misdelivered and delayed brings the pivotal news- they've found a suitable bassist. It throws all of them for a loop, and everything dissolves into chaos. Yao spends hours a day at recording studios, Xiang falls asleep countless times with a guitar slung across his body; and Yong-Soo adds a headset to his normal ensemble. Music pounds into his ears day and night, and he relentlessly hones his sense of rhythm- fingers always tap-tap-tapping to some kind of beat. There is no time to slip away and dance- not that he means to keep it a secret, but it's still <em>his<em>, something personal. But he keeps the idea close.

He can't let them go back to the way they were before- he has to remind them. Music is _fun_, and he got into this industry because he loved it. Yao takes immaculate care of his voice, and Xiang gazes at his guitar with incredible fondness in his eyes. He must not let them tire of it, not like he did once.

So he plays an air-saxophone while turning on jazz, mangles blues with terrible English. Their expressions are stiff, and he begins to wonder if he should just leave off before they seriously get angry. But Yao finally cracks a smile during a particularly horrible rendition of Elvis, and they all (even Xiang!) laugh until they're breathless.

"How about a drama marathon?" It takes some pestering, but he sits on the floor between their legs, and proceeds to react over exaggeratedly at every twist. He starts to doze during 'He Who Came From the Stars', and he almost thinks he's dreaming when he feels a gentle hand ruffling his hair, and a throw blanket he distinctly remembered Xiang sitting on draping itself over his torso. It wakes him up, but he feigns sleep awhile longer. After they themselves have too succumbed to sleep, he _maybe_ lets a tear or two escape. But that's only because the main character left. Really.

(He's really glad he joined SLR1VER.)

* * *

><p>"Hello. My name is Honda Kiku, and I am looking forward to working with you."<p>

It's anticlimactic, really, the actual meeting with the bassist. He's unassuming, his too-long bangs and short stature the only things that stick out about him. He trades a glance with Xiang, because hey, Yao and Xiang will never pass for normal people, and he likes to think that he isn't all that sore on the eyes himself.

But that doesn't matter. While image matters in this industry, the higher-ups wouldn't have spent so much time searching for a bassist to send in your average Joe. He shakes his head at Xiang's raised eyebrow, and in that time Yao steps up.

"Good, aru. I am Wang Yao, the singer. Welcome to SLR1VER." He trades one final smirk at the 'aru', the nervous tic that acted up whenever their fearless leader got nervous, and steps forward himself. Honda seems somewhat apprehensive- he can't see his eyes through that silly hairstyle, but it's written all over his body language.

He sticks out his right hand with a friendly smile. "Yo, I'm-"

"Xiang. Pleasure." Xiang, the jerk, cuts in smoothly. He nods once, then shuffles off, leaving the three in vaguely shocked silence.

"Sorry about him. We haven't quite finished house-training him yet." He jokes, because Honda's gotten even more tense if anything with that little stunt. Yao tries for a smile, too.

"That's what we usually say about _you_." Betrayal. He glares, pouting theatrically, all the while keeping an eye on the new kid. "Geez, let a guy introduce himself!" He extends his hand again.

Honda shakes it, bowing his head a little. "No need to be so formal! I'm the drummer, Im Yong-Soo. It's great to meet you."

He sticks around for a while, mostly listening to Yao start showing the kid around, but drifts off as soon as it isn't rude to. There's a snare line playing in his head, and he wants to get it down.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, that's quite the mess. I've been sitting on this idea for a long time, and cut it off 'cause it was getting too long. We haven't even gotten to the beginning of the original conflict!<strong>

**To my reviewers!**

**Obsessed-Language-Freak: Wow, it really has been a long time. No, no, I totally get it. Thank you so much for the praise, and your care.**

**mimi-chan and aliling-chan: Oh dear, my deepest condolences. There are people displeased with the government everywhere, aren't there? Ah, that chapter. I try to block that from my memory, but I'll see about writing something a bit more humorous! Thank you for reviewing.**

**Amy Kitty Katz: ! I want to say I'm sorry but I'm not? *conflicted* Well, I'm sorry you're sad, but glad I could express their feelings (my feelings) to you. Thank you for the review.**


	44. Hobbies!

**Day 44- Hobbies**

**This started out as fluff, then turned into introspection. I don't know.**

**I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

><p>He likes the feel of a camera in his hands, all smooth moving parts and realistic detail.<p>

It's not like he's an artist, though, not like Ilbon of the many talents. Ilbon has beautiful hands, he'll admit, with slender fingers and a delicate touch. It is he who can _create_, who paints with breathtaking detail, who can coax life into anything with a pencil in hand.

He just hangs a DSLR camera around his neck as he walks, because while he'll never measure up to the others, he does have an eye for beauty. He takes pictures, because he strives to capture all the precious moments, the ones that slip past and are too easily forgotten, with so many long years on his mind. He takes pictures, because he has lost and lost; things, people, and the least he can do is remember.

He had lost too many memories as well.

He'll never tell, though. That's his secret, as are his favorite candids. He has a few for every precious person. Whether it's a look of mixed fondness and wonder, still, every time after lighting a firecracker, or the gentle smile that is Thailand's signature, or even a puff-cheeked pout from Mei. While most of his pictures are characterized by a mood, these capture the essence of all of them, he thinks.

He works them in, because they are finally all back together, after so many decades scattered.

This doesn't particularly exclude the hundreds of pictures he must have of Honda Kiku, though. He supposes he can't help it. Ilbon- (no, Honda-ssi, no, Kiku?) has always been a mystery, an enigma. And nations hold all the same numerous facets of personality as normal human beings do.

He spots a dark head bent over a wide sketchbook, and hurries over. It might be...

Yep.

So of course there's nothing to do but lift his camera for another shot at trying to figure Honda Kiku out.

* * *

><p>He loves the feel of a fresh sheet of paper- it's clean, new, free in a way he has never been. The texture of a piece of charcoal as he rubs it across the page tastes of longing, though, and that may say something of the way he draws.<p>

He is selfish, after all, despite his best efforts to be otherwise. He holds an iron discipline over himself, cold self-control, but that doesn't stop him from _wanting_.

He's very good at lying to himself, though, highly skilled. He draws inanimate objects a lot, strangers, landscapes, the tourists that clump down the sidewalk-

He flips the page, almost tearing it in a sudden movement.

He... doesn't?

Didn't, yes, past tense, that had all changed now, hadn't it, everything had changed.

(Hadn't it?)

Drawing his family, his friends, was a foreign concept for years. With family, it would be reminder after useless reminder of things he missed too much already. And friends?

Well, he had left _family_, he had walked out and couldn't hope to return, didn't deserve to. And just how long would these _friends_ stick around? Just as long as he was useful, he supposes, before fighting down that caustic wave of bile, every time, NO.

It had taken years. Years of- of kind smiles, and petty banter, of sunny days spent in beautiful gardens, of tentative overtures to those who had been his enemy yesterday, a year ago, a decade ago. This was how nations lived, after all.

But still when he drew, the paper was dark with black. People turned into shades, and grins into grimaces.

He shakes his head, reaches for the watercolors with a trembling hand.

(Yes, declares a voice, almost singing. Things had changed.)

One by one, they had come to him, some dragged their feet, some had smiled. He was surrounded by family again, though some still struggled to smile.

He had made his apologies, brought his head lower than he had ever imagined before. And it was alright, despite his pride. Because they had welcomed him home, and he had a family again.

Still, a sour taste lingers heavy on his tongue when the only remaining twin hangs back a little at the first world meeting after that. The apology had gone over surprisingly well, but relations were... not strained, per se, but awkward.

_Are you free? After the meeting?_

_Yes._

A blur of the evening, a quiet bar with a quieter bartender.

_...These...are all things you're not afraid to lose, huh._

A drink too many, and he had allowed the unusually friendly nation to flip through his sketchbook. There's something a little sad, a little understanding in the other man's eyes. He tries to deny it, murmurs something unintelligible.

_Do not take my lies from me._

_(They are all I have left.)_

_Sorry. You know I'm selfish like that._

He had brought him back to his hotel, shouted a 'Good night' with a smile that hasn't been directed at him in centuries.

A bright trace of yellow would do, he thinks. A touch of purple, with the deepest blue.

It had been that night, that he had finally tried to draw people again.

It was crude, strange, but the smiles had stayed smiles, and he had slept in peace for the first time in a long time.

"Don't tell me it's abstract stuff again."

He looks up from his paints to see a camera lens.

"Say kimchi~"

He smiles.


End file.
